


Let It Snow

by thekeyholder



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Baking, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Fluff, M/M, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-02-18 01:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeyholder/pseuds/thekeyholder
Summary: A few days before Christmas, Oswald is trying to reach the remote location where he sent Martin in complete secrecy. Unfortunately, all the trains are cancelled due to heavy snowfalls, so Oswald has to hitch a ride with Jim Gordon. Neither suspects that they are going to spend Christmas together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nekomata58919](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekomata58919/gifts).



> Hey, everyone this is my entry for [Gobblepot Winter 2017](http://gobblepotgazette.tumblr.com/post/167450979469/gobblepot-winter-2017)! I'm using several prompts, for this part Snow, Coat and Gingerbread.
> 
> Many, many thanks to skeleton_twins for her constant encouragement and Nekomata58919 who not only gave me the prompt, but also betaed the story. Please enjoy :)

 

Everything was perfectly planned, down to every second. Oswald Cobblepot had given his staff free days over the holidays, so that no one would see or hear anything. One could never be careful enough. He would take a train to an undisclosed location early the next morning, then hire a cab and finally make it to his secret cottage, where he’d spend a few days with the one person who still loved him unconditionally.

 

Despite the wealth Oswald had, there was one thing he couldn’t control: the weather. It was past ten in the evening and he had barely managed to make it to the railway station. He said goodbye to his driver and pulled up his lapels against the icy wind. Nevertheless, his cheeks became red  and the hems of his trousers were wet in the short trip it took him to get inside the building. He stomped his feet to get rid of the snow stuck to his boots.

 

Unfortunately, those were the least of his problems. Oswald soon found out that all the trains were either cancelled or delayed with many, many hours. His, of course, was cancelled and the queue in front of the information desk was huge. Naturally, if he wanted to, he could get to the front, but he tried to remain inconspicuous. 

 

Oswald retreated to an empty nook of the old building and cursed silently. How was it possible that a single snowfall suddenly paralysed the city? Well, not exactly paralysed as cars could still drive. But the railway system was always so unreliable. He threw in the bin the ticket he’d purchased weeks prior. Maybe if he tried, he could still get ahold of Tom, his driver.   
  
He wasn’t lucky, though. Oswald tried some of his other employees, but it always went straight to voicemail. Great, everyone was happy to get rid of him so easily. He wasn’t sure what he could do, perhaps hail a cab and maybe convince the driver to do the very long trip for a nice sum of money.

 

However, the few cabs that still circulated just drove past him and Oswald started shivering after a while, his coldness and desperation growing inside him. He had to get there, he absolutely had to, even if he would have to walk. So he pushed up his lapels again and made sure that his fur cap was sitting right on his head, covering his ears, before he started sauntering down the empty streets.

 

Tears stung his eyes as Oswald faced the strong wind and he kept his head down, not looking anyone in the eye. He heard a car coming from behind and then it slowed down, the driver opening his window.

 

“Hey, do you need a ride?”

 

Under normal circumstances, Oswald would have just shaken his head and keep walking, but he actually knew the voice. The shock made him stop and look over. Sure enough, Captain James Gordon was sitting behind the wheel, his eyes widening when he recognised the lost traveller.

 

“Oswald, what are you doing here?”

 

There was no point in running away or ignoring the man - not that Oswald could do either of those - so he stepped closer to the window.

 

“James, what a surprise! I-I, well, I was supposed to take a train, but it was cancelled.”

 

“So what, you thought you’d walk?” Jim laughed incredulously. “Come on, hop inside.”

 

“No, no, I can’t, I don’t want to impose on you,” Oswald protested, even though his frozen legs were begging him to seek out some warmth.

 

“You won’t. Stop being stubborn and get inside the car!”

 

Well, he couldn’t fight against that commanding tone now, could he? Oswald got inside and breathed with relief at the cosy atmosphere. He took off his gloves and rubbed his hands together as Jim slowly advanced on the road. Jim even cranked up the heating.

 

“Thank you, Jim, appreciate it.”

 

“Sure, no problem. So where are you going?”

 

Oswald should have anticipated the question, but he still froze. “Um, well, to, uh, visit some family.”

 

Jim raised his eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t know you had any left.”

 

“Some cousins. From dad’s side, so I don’t really know them,” Oswald lied and hoped that Jim would be satisfied with the answer, but the detective’s expression remained suspicious.

 

“I’m also visiting relatives. So, which direction are you going in?”

 

“Uhh, Baltimore?”

 

“Really? Interesting, I am also going that way,” Jim said, looking at Oswald briefly before he concentrated his attention on the snowy road, but something in his tone made Oswald think that he’d have to prepare for more questions.

 

“Why didn’t you wait for tomorrow? Maybe the weather will improve. No point in catching a cold by walking in a snowstorm at midnight.”

 

Oswald huffed. “It’s imperative that I make it there by tomorrow morning. I’m expected by eight the latest.”

 

“Okay.” Jim frowned. “I can get you there.”

 

Oswald  started worrying because Jim was surely thinking that he was involved in something illegal. “T-that won’t be necessary, just get me out of this storm and drop me off at a bus or train station.”

 

“Is there a reason why you don’t want me to meet your cousins?”

 

“No,” Oswald grunted, crossing his arms. In order to distract Jim, Oswald decided to ask his own questions. “So why are you on the road at such an hour and in such ungodly weather?”

 

Jim pinched his lips. “I could only take a few days off, so I decided to make most of it.”

 

There was a moment of silence, then Jim continued: “Or well, that’s the official version. The truth is that my mom bullied me into it.”

 

“Surely she doesn’t want you to drive in such conditions!” Oswald exclaimed, looking over at Jim with wide eyes.

 

Jim laughed. “No, not really, but she’ll complain if I don’t stay enough.”

 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve heard you talk about your mother before,” Oswald said, curious to hear more.

 

“Well, I’m trying not to mix my work and personal life.”

 

Oswald hummed and watched the dense snowfall as they inched their way out of the city. Gotham looked so different under the blanket of snow - calmer and purer, an otherworldly beauty setting over it. Although Oswald wasn’t particularly fond of winter - icy sidewalks were dangerous and the cold made his ankle hurt more - he loved watching it from a warm place. Although his trouser legs were still wet, his body had warmed up.

 

“Let me know if you see the exit for the gas station,” Jim said as he leaned forward. “The visibility is so damn low.”

 

“I’m sorry you have to drive in this blizzard.”

 

“It’s alright, just want to make sure we have enough gas. Don’t want to get stuck in the middle of nowhere.”

 

“I’d rather not either,” Oswald agreed.

 

After five minutes, Oswald noticed a sign for the gas station and Jim pulled over. “If you want, you can stay here, but I also wanted to buy some food for the road, so it might take a while.”

 

“I’ll go inside, need to stretch my leg,” Oswald said and they both got out.

 

While Jim was pumping gas, Oswald hurried inside. His eyes fell on the toy section and even though the bag on Jim’s backseat was full with presents for Martin, he was still attracted to the colourful toys. He looked through them, finally settling on a cute polar bear that was wearing a green hat and scarf.

 

“Seen anything?” Jim suddenly appeared by his side, making Oswald jump.

 

“Maybe,” Oswald said and he didn’t miss the surprised look on Jim’s face when he notices the plushie in Oswald’s hand.

 

“I’m going to grab some snacks, do you want something?”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

Oswald waited while Jim picked some snacks, unable to stifle a giggle as Jim returned with arms full of colourful packages.

 

“What? I need to drive all night and chewing on stuff will help me stay awake,” Jim explained.

 

“Of course, Jim.”

 

“Besides, it’s for two people.”

 

Oswald blushed, looking away.

 

The Captain placed everything on the counter and the sleepy cashier started scanning the items. Jim was about to take his wallet out, but Oswald stopped him. He gave the cashier his card, then turned back to Jim. “I’m paying since you’re going out of your way to help.”

 

“That’s not tr-”

 

“Please, James. Consider this holiday kindness, if you will.”

 

Jim nodded, taking the bag from the cashier. They hurried back to the car and took off their coats, Jim tossing them onto the backseat. He placed the bag with goodies between their seats and first thing he pulled out of it was the polar bear, holding it up with a smile.

 

“Let’s put it on the dashboard,” Jim said and tried to reach the corner on Oswald’s side.

 

The gangster froze for a second as Jim leaned over his lap and he got a whiff of his cologne. Oswald closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of mandarin and sandalwood, committing it to his memory. The polar bear now stared at them with his shiny black eyes.

 

“You know I didn’t get it for you.”

 

“Figured as much,” Jim laughed.

 

He pulled out a bag of Doritos, opened it and offered it to Oswald. The gangster hesitated first, as he had developed a different palat in the past years, but this was a special occasion, so he could indulge himself a bit.

 

“Alright, let’s do this,” Jim said as he exited the parking lot and drove back onto the road.

 

They were silent, except for the crunching sounds they made while eating. About ten minutes later, however, they had to stop as there were some cars in front of them.

 

“Damn, I wonder what is happening,” Jim said.

 

After a couple of minutes, Oswald started tapping his foot. He watched as Jim opened a can of coke and while the detective wasn’t looking, he checked his phone. He wondered whether he should send any texts to alert his man of the delay, but perhaps it was too early.

 

“If we don’t move in the next five minutes, I’m going to turn around and try the I-78,” Jim announced, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

 

“What? But that route is much longer, it will take us at least an additional hour!”

 

“Better than being stuck here.”

 

“Absolutely not! You have no idea in what state that highway is! What if it’s completely snowed in?” Oswald’s panic rose by the second. He couldn’t risk this.

 

“Sometimes you have to gamble in life, Oswald.”

 

“Don’t you dare gamble my time with M-,” Oswald stopped suddenly, shutting his eyes. Deep breath. “I know it is your car and you’re driving, James, but I told you I cannot risk not getting there in time.”

 

“As you said, my car, my rules.” Jim looked around before he got out from the lane and onto the other one, swerving carefully.

 

“God, why can’t you just listen to me for once?!”

 

“I am. You keep telling me how you need to get to Baltimore in time, so I’m taking you there. Stop whining!”

 

Oswald was becoming hysteric. “Great, another one of your absolutely foolproof plans! Like you said you’d get rid of Sofia and then needed me to clean up after your mess.”

 

A nerve quivered in Jim’s jaw and Oswald was afraid that he went too far. “I thought that was forgotten, but you never forget or forgive anything, do you, Oswald? You always have to rub it in.”

 

“How could I forget when you seem intent to go against me, even when working with me is clearly the better alternative. But if that helps you sleep at night…”

 

Jim stepped on the gas and Oswald had to hold on to the dashboard. “Slow down, you madman, or you’ll get both of us killed!”

 

“Shut up,” Jim growled, but at least he slowed down. “You can hate me all you want, but trust me on this one, alright?!”

 

Oswald’s mouth opened, but he just didn’t have the energy to deny Jim. He crossed his arms and slumped against his seat, watching the snowy fields and the very long line of cars. He had many fights with Jim along the years and Oswald had to admit that a lot of time he provoked the detective on purpose, goaded him until Jim stepped into his personal space and yanked him by his tie or backed him against a wall. Embarrassing or not, that seemed to be the only way he could get close to Jim.

 

The road in that direction was fairly empty and they made it back to the conjunction in twenty minutes. Oswald’s stomach clenched uncomfortably as they turned onto the I-78, but this highway seemed to be fine, the circulation was normal, albeit slower.

 

He could feel Jim’s eyes on him for a second; in fact, they both had been glancing at each other, unable to say anything. They were both so stubborn and they had a long history behind them. Oswald wanted to apologise, but he wasn’t sure how to start or if Jim would even listen. Pride was such a terrible quality.

 

With a sigh, Jim turned on the radio to fill the silence. The sweet cords of _ Blue Christmas _ took over and Oswald swallowed, remembering the humble holidays his mother and he would have in their tiny apartment. Gertrud was always such a big admirer of Elvis and she often made Oswald dance with her to his songs even when the vinyl stopped, just humming into Oswald’s shoulder. 

 

Oswald sniffled and quickly wiped with the tip of his index finger a stray tear from the corner of his eye. He glanced at Jim, but it seemed like the detective was miles away, he too lost in memories. As hard as it was, there was no point in being upset with each other.

 

In the passing light of a lamp, Oswald’s eyes fell to a candy bar on the top of the bag. He took it and opened it, then cleared his throat. “Jim… would you like some chocolate?”

 

Jim looked at him, surprised. “Sure. Thanks.”

 

The slight smile on the detective’s face made something hurt inside Oswald’s ribcage. He reciprocated it with his own shaky smile as Jim broke off half of the Snickers bar. 

 

“The other half is for you.”

 

“Thank you,” Oswald murmured into his chest, overwhelmed by Jim’s reconciliatory gesture. “I apologise for, uh, earlier. For freaking out.”

 

“That’s alright, it happens. This period is stressful for everyone.”

 

Oswald laughed. “Don’t I know it.”

 

Jim bit his lip, then looked at Oswald. “Why is it so important that you get to your cousins by eight? Are you going somewhere?”

 

“Always the detective, Jim. Tell me more about your plans, maybe I’ll share more about mine.”

 

Jim snorted. “Always the businessman, Oswald.”

 

“It’s how I survived.”

 

“Alright. Well, there’s not much to say. My mom, her sister, my brother and his family will be there.”

 

“Nice. So you’re an uncle then?”

 

“I have three nieces,” Jim said with a smile. “My trunk is full of barbie dolls.”

 

Oswald laughed. It was so strange to imagine Jim as an uncle, but he was sure that he was wonderful to the girls. His mind briefly wandered to Jim playing with Martin and Oswald had to rub his chest, because it felt as if someone had stabbed him with a dagger.

 

“What about your cousins? Do they have kids?”

 

“Yes, there’s a boy.”

 

Jim nodded. “So the polar bear is for him?”

 

“Yes. Can’t go with empty hands.”

 

Jim nodded understandingly. “Here’s some advice, though: don’t ever get a live animal for the kid. Your cousins might not appreciate the idea as much as the kids.”

 

Oswald turned to wards Jim with a grin. “Sounds like you have a lot of experience. Tell me more.”

 

“I got a puppy for my nieces. My biggest wish as a kid was to get a dog and it never happened, so I thought I’d surprise the girls,” Jim smiled wistfully.

 

“Well, I agree, you should have asked your brother before, but it was a nice thought.”

 

“Yeah, in retrospect it seems logical… that was three years ago, Princess is now a part of the family. But that Christmas was pretty rough. I haven’t been home since then.”

 

“Really?”

 

Jim was silent for a minute. “My mom is nagging me every year, of course, but I managed to use the excuse that I need to work so far. This year she wouldn’t let me, though.”

 

“That’s strange. I mean, you would think that she’d cut you some slack since you became captain.”

 

“I think she has ulterior motives,” Jim grumbled.

 

“Oh yes, sounds like she wants you to spend more time with your family.”

 

“Not that. She wants me to make up with Roger.”

 

Oswald stayed quiet; he doubted Jim wanted to reveal as much as he’d already done, so he thought that asking more questions would make things worse, even though he was dying to know what happened between Jim and his brother.

 

“It’s just a few days, Jim. You’ll survive. If you want, you can always feign an emergency. I could call you and ask as your mayor to return to Gotham.”

 

“You’re not the mayor anymore, Oswald.”

 

“No, but your brother doesn’t know that, does he?” Oswald’s grin widened as Jim started smiling.

 

“Alright, it’s always good to have a plan B.”

 

Oswald wanted to tell Jim that he could always join him for Christmas, but it wasn’t possible. He could not risk Martin, not even for Jim. While Oswald was absorbed into his thoughts, the radio played another slow song which made Oswald’s heavy eyelids droop.

 

“You should probably try to catch some sleep,” Jim advised, looking at Oswald as they passed an illuminated portion.

 

“I don’t want to let you drive alone,” Oswald said, trying to fight sleep.

 

“I promise not to end up in a ditch.”

 

“It’s not that.” 

 

“Oh.” Even though it was dark, Oswald was quite sure that Jim was blushing. “I’ll be alright with the music and food, no worries. Unless the music bothers you?”

 

“No, no, it’s fine, quite soothing actually,” Oswald said, voice muffled as he suppressed a yawn. 

 

He took his coat and folded it, pressed it against the window and leaned against it. Oswald listened to the lyrics of  _ The Christmas Song _ , his breathing gradually slowing. Soon, Nat King Cole’s soft voice put him to sleep.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Oswald woke up to Jim humming along to  _ Let It Snow _ , tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. It had to be around dawn as the sky was a lighter blue. Any other person would have looked strange in that light, but Jim was beautiful, even ethereal.

 

The sight made him smile and he blinked a few times, still fighting against sleep. He was so warm and comfortable when a whiff of sandalwood reached his nose. Jim’s cologne… but it was quite strong. Oswald stirred slightly and that was when he noticed that Jim’s coat was draped over him. His chest was invaded by ineffable feelings.

 

“Oh sorry, did I wake you?” Jim asked when he noticed Oswald peeking out at him.

 

“No, it’s alright. I don’t feel tired anymore.” Oswald sat up properly, folding Jim’s coat. “Thank you,” he said quietly, wishing he could sniff the coat for longer.

 

“You’re welcome. Thought you might be cold.”

 

They both remained silent. Oswald checked his phone - it was a quarter to six. He’d slept almost three hours, so Jim definitely needed a break.

 

“We should stop at the next gas station, Jim. You’ve been driving for a while, I’m sure you need a beak.”

 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind stretching my legs. Bet you’d like that as well, right?” Jim glanced down at Oswald’s knee.

 

“Right.”

 

Jim pulled up at the next gas station. Oswald winced as he got out of the car, the chilly air hitting his sore limbs. Jim waited for him patiently and they entered the small caffe together.

 

“I’m going to the toilet,” Jim said, indicating the door in the back.

 

“Would you like a coffee?”

 

“Yes. Sugar, no milk.”

 

Oswald sat at a table and gave his order to the sleepy barista. He took out his phone and sent a quick message to his security man, telling him that he would arrive in approximately an hour and a half. Then he went to look around the shop and his eyes were caught by the row of snowglobes. There was one with a black car in the middle, snowy pine trees lining the winding road. Oswald shook it, smiling as the tiny snowflakes fell around the car. 

 

He had to get this for Jim. Oswald looked around and hurried to the cashier, paying for the gift before the detective came back. Once done, Oswald hid it in his coat’s pocket.

 

When Jim emerged, their orders were also ready and Jim eyed his latte macchiato funnily.

 

“What?”

 

Jim laughed. “I don’t know, I just always imagined you as more of a tea person.”

 

“I do like tea as well, but I think we can both use some caffeine right now.”

 

“True,” Jim said, closing his eyes as the first sip hit his tongue. 

 

They stayed quiet, watching as the baker brought various trays of goodies from the back and started putting the gingerbread men on display.

 

“My mother had a fantastic gingerbread recipe. She said it was passed down in the family for centuries,” Oswald said, eating the delicate milk foam from the top of the tall glass.

 

“Do you still have it?”

 

Oswald nodded. “Yes. You know, in Hungarian it’s called  _ mézeskalács _ , which would roughly translate to honey cake. That was her secret, she used honey in the dough.”

 

“I’m sure it must have been good.”

 

Oswald remembered all the years when he and his mother would knead the dough, cut various figures and then decorate them when the cookies cooled off. There was a lump in his throat at the thought of not being able to pass on the recipe. He hadn’t had the chance to bake together with Martin, but he wanted to try during these holidays.

 

“Should we, uh, go?” Jim asked quietly, peering at Oswald with concern.

 

“Yes, sorry. Was just thinking.”

 

Jim held the door open for Oswald. “That’s alright. So where exactly are we going?”

 

“Well, you don’t need to go into Baltimore, just drop me off at Rosedale and I’ll take a cab from there. It’s kind of a remote location.”

 

“Oswald.”

 

“What?” the gangster asked as he put on his seatbelt.

 

“I told you I’m taking you to your destination. Can’t just drop you off in some random town, not in this weather.”

 

“But, Jim-”

 

“No buts, Oswald. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you for long. Just want to make sure you get there. See, it’s snowing again, don’t want you to get stuck or something.”

 

Oswald sighed. He was stubborn, but Jim far surpassed him. Maybe he could quickly slip into the house before Jim could see Martin and then Jim would drive away and everything would go on as before, they would return to their strange frenemies relationship.

 

Once they reached Rosedale, Oswald directed Jim to a small road that left the town. The road was winding through a pine forest and Oswald looked concerned at the billowing, grey clouds above them. There had definitely been more snowfall in these parts and there would probably be even more. It was seven and three minutes, it would take them more than a quarter hour.

 

“Are you sure?” Jim asked when Oswald told him to go to the right, on a dirt road.

 

“Yes. My cousins like their privacy.”

 

Jim looked at Oswald with raised eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. The gangster was biting his nails, suddenly very nervous. He was not only worried about how everything would unfold with Jim, but also about Martin’s reaction. What if the boy didn’t love him anymore? It had been two months since they met in person, though they had sent letters to each other.

 

Finally, the cottage came into view and Oswald fidgeted, then undid his seatbelt.

 

“So this is it,” Jim said as he stopped and looked at Oswald. “See, we got here before eight, as I promised.”

 

“Thank you, Jim, I cannot even begin to tell you how grateful I am. Really, if there’s anything I could-”

 

Suddenly, the door was opened with a loud noise. Oswald and Jim both turned their heads and Oswald became very pallid as he saw a curly head peek out. He opened the door quickly and limped towards the door.

 

“Stay inside!” he yelled, but Martin didn’t listen to him.

 

The boy ran towards the gangster and Oswald couldn’t stay angry at him as Martin launched himself at him, hugging Oswald with such fierceness that it made his chest flood with a warm feeling. He put one of his arms around Martin’s back, holding his head with the other, fingers caressing his soft curls.

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cobblepot, Martin just ran out, I couldn’t stop him,” Mrs. Varga, the lady who had been taking care of the boy, said as she stepped outside, watching the emotional reunion with her hands over her heart.

 

“Martin, I told you how dangerous it is, you know you should listen to Mrs. Varga. Remember I told you that it could be anybody, maybe bad people. You know you shouldn’t run outside!”

 

With a trembling lip, Martin quickly took the notepad around his neck a scribbled a quick note. “ _ But I really missed you :( _ ”

 

Oswald’s eyes watered. “I missed you too.”

 

They hugged again and Oswald closed his eyes at the feel of the small arms holding him so tightly. He looked up when he heard a closing car door and Jim’s steps in the fresh snow.

 

“So this is the missing boy,” Jim said with his hands on his hips.

 

“Y-yes, but-”

 

“And there are no cousins?”

 

“No, but please, Jim, I can explain.”

 

The detective didn’t look very convinced.

 

“Please, Jim. Just come inside and I’ll tell you everything,” Oswald said beseechingly with his hands on Martin’s shoulder.

 

Finally, Jim inclined his head. “Alright.”

 

Oswald breathed out and manoeuvred everyone inside, hoping that Jim would understand his reasons and that he would keep his secrets.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! This story is back with more fluff and domesticity. :) I changed the number of chapters to 3, but it might actually become 4...
> 
> As always, many thanks to skeleton_twins for all her help with the plot and listening to me complain about the fic, as well as to Nekomata58919 for her awesome beta skills.

Oswald led Jim into the kitchen and told him to wait there while he talked to Mrs. Varga. Martin didn’t leave his side and Oswald kept a hand on the boy’s shoulder while he discussed matters with the old woman.

 

“I had groceries delivered yesterday, so you don’t need to go outside if the weather gets worse. Pablo cut up some wood as well, so you have everything.”

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Varga. Really appreciate it.” Oswald handed the woman an envelope.

 

“Mr. Cobblepot, you already paid enough,” Mrs. Varga said, but Oswald insisted until she took it.

 

“Thank you for taking care of Martin. I’ll let you know when to come back.”

 

“Happy holidays, Mr. Cobblepot!”

 

Martin and Oswald waved after her, then Oswald smiled when he looked towards the car. “There’s a gift for you on the dashboard,” he said and pointed towards the polar bear. “Go get it!”

 

The boy hurried as he could to the car and got the plushie, running back to Oswald with a grin. Once the door was closed, Martin wrote  _ thank you _ on his notebook. Oswald smiled and they went back to the kitchen. It looked as if Jim had just woken from his short nap the moment they entered, looking at them with narrowed, sleepy eyes.

 

Oswald pinched his lips; it was probably better not to have Martin around for the next few minutes. “You’d better have your homework done, Martin.”

 

Martin looked up at him with surprise. Of course, it was strange to ask for it barely ten minutes after arriving, but that was the first excuse Oswald could think of. The boy frowned and Oswald wanted to laugh at his expression, but he had to be firm. “Remember I told you in my last letter that I would check it. So go and get your notebooks, young man.”

 

With an exaggerated sigh, Martin left the kitchen. Oswald looked at him, trying not to smile. When his eyes landed on Jim, however, his mind drew a blank: he wasn’t sure how to broach the whole subject. The detective got up after Martin left, waiting a few seconds. He put his hands on his hips, facing Oswald as if he was doing one of his interrogations.

 

“Oswald, you’re aware that you’re the prime suspect in the kid’s missing…”

 

“I know, Jim.”

 

“Some people even went as far as to say that you killed him. Which, of course, seems ridiculous now since here I have proof that he’s actually alive.”

 

Oswald only nodded; he knew that the only reason why he hadn’t been arrested was the lack of evidence. “Sofia tried to get rid of me by using my weakness for Martin. I couldn’t allow that to happen.”

 

Jim rubbed his tired eyes and stepped closer to Oswald, his voice much softer. “Yes, but she’s gone now. You could get him back to Gotham and the whole case would be dropped.”

 

Of course, Oswald had so many sleepless nights thinking of this, but every time he came to the same conclusion. “I need to protect Martin and make sure that he’s safe. The only way I can guarantee that is if everyone thinks he’s dead.”

 

Jim’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. Oswald looked away and his whole face lit up as Martin came back with his notebooks. Oswald sat by the kitchen table and Martin climbed on his left thigh, leaning against him. Oswald put his arm around the boy and waited as Martin opened his Maths notebook, waiting for Oswald to check the exercises he had to make.

 

Oswald could feel Jim’s eyes on him, but then the Captain sat down across from them, watching as Oswald looked through the calculations. “Ah, I found a small mistake,” Oswald said, pointing at the third exercise.

 

Martin smiled apologetically, then erased the calculation and rewrote the correct answer. The rest of the homework was perfect, so Oswald praised his boy. “Well done, you did a very good job.” He kissed the top of Martin’s head and when he looked up, Jim was staring at him with parted lips.

 

“Do you understand now, Jim?”

 

Jim was about to answer, but instead he started yawning, suddenly exhaustion catching up with him. Oswald suspected that it wasn’t just the all-night driving, but also his stressful work that no doubt cut his sleeping hours short.

 

“You should lie down, Jim.”

 

“No, no, I’ll get going. I have about an hour and a half from here to my mom’s place.”

 

“I thought she lived in Baltimore,” Oswald said, closing Martin’s notebook.

 

“Well, it’s after it,” Jim said, blushing.

 

“James Gordon, you said this was on your way!”

 

“It’s alright,” Jim waved him off, not looking in his eyes.

 

Oswald helped Martin off his leg and then patted him on the shoulder. “Come, let’s make Jim’s bed.”

 

“You don’t have to,” Jim tried to protest weakly.

 

“Just a couple of hours. I won’t let you drive anymore, you need to rest a bit.”

 

Oswald went to the living room and sized up the sofa. It would do for a few hours of sleep. The cottage only had two bedrooms and one of them was Martin’s. Oswald went to the closet in the bedroom and gave Martin a pillow while he carried back a blanket.

 

Jim was leaning against the door, blinking sleepily at them.

 

“I hope the sofa is okay with you.”

 

“I really shouldn’t…”

 

“Jim. You’re exhausted after driving. Please, do it for my own conscience,” Oswald pleaded. “Just a couple of hours.”

 

“Alright, alright.”

 

Oswald resisted the urge to help Jim as he took off his shoes and got under the blanket. Only when Martin pulled on his sleeve did Oswald realise that he had been staring.

 

“Sleep well,” he said quickly and ushered Martin towards the kitchen, taking a last peek at Jim as he closed the door.

 

He smiled back at Martin as they were left alone. “Have you had any breakfast?”

 

Martin shook his head, so Oswald made some toast and took a strawberry jam from the pantry. He was happy to notice how well-stocked it was, so he could definitely do some baking later. Martin wanted to write something, but Oswald told him that if it wasn’t urgent, he should eat first and they would talk later.

 

Oswald could see that Martin was very impatient, but he waited until he ate his breakfast to scribble his question.

 

_ “What is the policeman doing here?” _

 

Oswald swallowed; he didn’t really have time to consider what Martin would say about Jim. He thought the detective would drop him off somewhere and they wouldn’t meet. Unfortunately, Martin’s very brief encounters with Jim hadn’t really been positive, so he understood why the boy was hesitant.

 

“He’s an old friend of mine, you know.”

 

Martin wrote his reply with a frown.  _ “You told me it’s better not to have them.” _

 

Oswald huffed. Explaining his relationship with Jim wouldn’t be easy. “I know you didn’t see him in the best light, but Jim is a good man. See, my train was cancelled and he gave me a lift. Brought me here, even when I told him to just drop me off at a bus stop.”

 

_ “So we can trust him?” _

 

Oswald surprised even himself by the speed with which he said yes. He never really understood how Jim was always so relevant in his life, how he never lost his trust in him, how he always remained his guiding light even in the darkest times. After all he’d done… 

 

Martin looked at him, then nodded. If Oswald trusted Jim, then he would as well. 

 

Oswald smiled and then he checked the rest of Martin’s homework, beaming with pride at each correctly done task. His boy was so intelligent, Oswald was sure he’d easily be selected by the best schools.

 

While Martin tiptoed to his room to retrieve some board games, Oswald peeked in the living room. It had been about two hours since Jim fell asleep and Oswald wondered whether he should wake the detective. It had started snowing again and the snowflakes were rather large. But Jim looked so peaceful, his brow for once not furrowed with worries, that Oswald didn’t have the heart to wake him yet.

 

* * *

 

Although Oswald was rather competitive, he let Martin win most of the time. They played Chutes and Ladders, Candyland and other board games, Oswald laughing at the boy’s enthusiasm to throw sixes with the dice. Meanwhile the snowfall turned into a proper blizzard. Oswald bit his lip, but he knew that if he woke Jim, he’d be mad enough to drive through it and Oswald couldn’t allow that.

 

“Do you want to help me prepare lunch?” he asked Martin instead and the boy nodded.

 

Oswald saw a pack of lasagna sheets in the pantry and so he didn't have to think too much about what to prepare. Martin helped with grating the mozzarella and he also brought Oswald the ingredients he asked, the boy watching attentively as Oswald prepared the tomato and bechamel sauces.

 

When everything was done, Martin put a layer of lasagna sheets, then Oswald topped it with bechamel and the ragu sauce and so on, until everything was used up. Finally, Martin sprinkled the grated mozzarella on top and Oswald smiled at his boy’s content expression.

 

“Now we put it in the oven for thirty minutes.”

 

While they waited for lunch to be ready, Oswald and Martin set the table ‒ even without Oswald saying anything, Martin put three plates on the table. Oswald pushed aside the kitchen curtain to have a look at the weather outside and he grimaced. There was so much snow now that he didn’t even think Jim could get out of the driveway. 

 

“I’m not sure if Jim will be able to leave. Not today anyway.”

 

Martin shrugged, then wrote in his notebook. _ “He can stay with us?” _

 

“I suppose so, but he wanted to visit his family,” Oswald replied. “Well, hopefully he won’t be too upset.”

 

Oswald took out the lasagna, its top beautiful and golden.

 

“Alright, let’s try to wake our sleepy guest.”

 

Martin and Oswald opened the door to the living room and shuffled inside. They were both unsure what to do with Jim who was clearly sleeping very well, drooling over the pillow. Martin giggled and Oswald tried to shush him, but ended up giggling himself. Jim stirred a bit, but didn’t wake completely.

 

Oswald stepped closer, laying his hand gently on the detective’s shoulder. “Jim.”

 

He didn’t need to shake Jim too much, whose eyes opened quickly, quick reflexes left from his military life. Oswald took a step back as Jim sat up, glaring sleepily at him and Martin.

 

“Sorry, I know you were sleeping well.”

 

“That’s alright,” Jim croaked, rubbing his eyes.

 

“Well, I have some good news and bad news. With which should I start?”

 

“Bad news,” Jim replied, stretching and distracting Oswald.

 

“Alright, please don’t get mad, but I think you may be stuck here. At least temporarily.”

 

Jim glared at him. “What do you mean?”

 

“I’m afraid it’s been snowing rather heavily in the past four hours.”

 

“Four hours?” Jim looked at his wristwatch, cursing under his breath. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

 

“You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t have the heart,” Oswald said, watching as Jim threw the blanket off of him and went to the window.

 

His tense shoulders sagged after a few seconds as he took in the blizzard raging outside. “That’s a lot of snow.”

 

Oswald wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and watched as Jim ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed his face as he was no doubt rethinking his plans for the day. Fearing that the detective might lash out, Oswald took a step towards him and tried to keep his calm.

 

“I know and I’m sorry, I know you wanted to be with your family, but-but I am sure it will get better by morning and then you can drive to your mother’s house, it shouldn’t be that long from here. I apologise, I know-”

 

Oswald’s words petered out when Jim looked up at him, as there was no anger in those blue eyes. “It’s alright, no need to apologise.”

 

“But I ruined your plans!”

 

Jim sighed. “No, that was the weather. It’s fine. It has to stop at some point, right?”

 

“Yes, but your mother…”

 

“She can wait another day. I’ll call her later, she didn’t even know I set off last night.”

 

Oswald nodded, suddenly feeling relieved. There was a tapping on his arm and he looked down to where Martin was showing his notebook, with a doodle of the lasagna. Oswald smiled at him, meeting Jim’s curious stare as he looked at him.

 

“Martin just reminded me of the good news.”

 

“Oh right, what is it? Maybe you have a husky sleigh?”

 

Oswald snorted at Jim’s joke. “No, something better. Lunch is ready.”

 

“Why didn’t you start with that?”

 

“You wanted the bad news first!”

 

“Well, that could have waited.” As they went to the kitchen, Jim sniffed the air. “Oh, that smells great.”

 

Oswald smiled, showing Jim his seat. “It’s lasagna, Martin helped me with it.”

 

Once Jim got his slice, both Oswald and Martin waited anxiously for his judgement. Oswald was aware of Jim’s poor choices when it came to his diet, and yet he hoped this homemade dish would impress him. 

 

“Mmh, this is amazing,” Jim said and Martin and Oswald smiled at each other as the detective dug in.

 

Lunch was spent nicely, even though it was very strange at the beginning to have both Martin and James by his side. Oswald briefly thought about how they were the most important people in his life, but they had been separated so far, different compartments of his life. Both Jim and Martin brought out different sides of him that he didn’t want to show to others.

 

Now, however, now he didn’t have to hold back. He could be affectionate with Martin, despite feeling Jim’s inquisitive gaze on them ‒ Oswald knew that the detective would never use this knowledge against him. He could ruffle Martin’s hair and send him off with a candy, his heart still overflowing with joy that he was able to do these gestures.

 

Oswald gathered the dishes and took them to the sink where Jim was peering outside the window, face etched with worry as his eyes followed the frantic dance of the snowflakes. His chest felt tight at the sight.

 

Turning on the faucet, Oswald peered at Jim from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry again about this whole situation. I didn’t know the weather would turn like this.”

 

“That’s okay, it’s been rather unpredictable.” Jim watched Oswald wash their plates, seemingly lost in some memory. “In fact, I think I am slightly relieved that I don’t have to meet my family just yet.”

 

Oswald’s stomach sank. “Still, you should probably let them know that you’re safe at least.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I will.”

 

Jim took a tea towel and started wiping the clean dishes.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“No need to thank me. Might as well make myself useful since you got stuck with me and I can pay off my debt.”

 

Oswald shook his head, laughing, as he finished washing the last dish. “What debt? It is I who owes you.”

 

“Don’t think so, not after that delicious lasagna. Besides, you probably wanted to spend some time alone with the boy.”

 

“Jim, your presence isn’t a burden if you’re insinuating that. We’re glad to have you here.”

 

The detective didn’t look very convinced. “I don't know about that. Martin surely didn’t want me around.”

 

Oswald frowned as he put the plates away. Jim sounded quite nervous, probably thinking that Martin disliked him because of the brief encounters they had in Gotham.

 

“Well, he doesn’t know you as well as I do. Don’t you worry, he’ll warm up to you,” Oswald said and patted Jim’s arm as he passed him, hoping that Jim would relax. “Martin’s a very friendly boy.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jim said, placing his hand on Oswald’s arm. He kept his hand there, looking at it. Oswald knew Jim would elaborate on it, he just needed more time to gather his thoughts, so he waited patiently for Jim to continue. “For believing Sofia instead of you. I’ve known you for years… I should have known that you wouldn’t harm a child.”

 

“Jim…” For a moment, Oswald stayed silent as well, taking in the apology. “I, well, I didn’t expect this.”

 

“I know I should have apologised sooner. But seeing you with Martin… it is clear to anyone who spends a few minutes with you that you love him like your own son.”

 

Oswald had a lump in his throat and no words came out yet, but he wanted to assure Jim that he appreciated the gesture. He took Jim’s hand in his, running his thumb over the smooth skin. When Oswald looked up, Jim was watching him intently, his eyes beautiful, but troubled.

 

“Thank you, Jim. I-”

 

Before Oswald could say anything, they became attentive to quick steps. Soon, Martin appeared in the door with a sad expression. Oswald let go of Jim’s hand reluctantly.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Martin held up a wooden plane, its wing broken.

 

“Oh no…” Oswald said, stepping closer. He knew Martin loved that toy, so he must have been upset.

 

“Can I see it?” Jim asked and he crouched, Martin giving him the pieces with quivering lips.

 

Oswald put his arm around Martin’s shoulders, trying to comfort him. “Don’t worry, we can get another one later.”

 

Martin scribbled in his notebook.  _ “But I like this one.” _

 

“If you give me some glue, I can fix it. And the wheels too, I see they are a bit wobbly.”

 

Jim smiled at Martin when the boy looked at him with wide eyes, Oswald’s chest aching just a bit. 

 

“Do you have some glue?”

 

“I think so, I’ll have to look.”

 

Oswald limped to the living room, looking through the drawers. Finally, he came across a box of super glue and he turned around just as Jim and Martin joined him. He gave Jim the glue and the detective sat cross-legged on the carpet, Martin standing close to him. Oswald chose the sofa beside them, watching as Jim inspected the wheels of the toy.

 

“See, there used to be a little nub that would go in there, but it broke off, so that’s why it’s moving,” Jim said, beckoning Martin closer who kneeled beside him. “Here, put a bit of glue there, in that small space.”

 

Martin took the tube of glue and he pressed it as Jim held the plane. Oswald smiled as both Martin and Jim pressed on the small piece while the glue dried. After that Jim tried it, showing proudly that the wheels were held in place.

 

“Let’s see about the wing.”

 

Martin scooted closer, his hand on Jim’s shoulder as he leaned in to have a better look. Oswald did not dare to think about the warmth sparkling in his chest; he watched as Jim showed Martin where to put the glue and they held it together as it dried. The plane was fixed in a couple of minutes.

 

“All done. No need to get a new one,” Jim said and handed Martin the plane.

 

Both Oswald and Jim were surprised when Martin put his arm around Jim, hugging the detective tightly. Oswald smiled when Jim looked over at him with wide eyes. He patted Martin’s back who sat up and wrote  _ ‘thank you’ _ on his notepad.

 

“You’re very welcome. I’m glad we could fix it.”

 

Meanwhile Oswald was trying to memorise these moments, to keep them and cherish them forever. He had never seen Jim interact with children, but it seemed like he knew how to talk to them. Even though he didn’t know Martin that well, he tried to involve the boy in the reparation and Martin’s joy was obvious as he was already playing with the wooden plane.

 

Suddenly, Oswald realised there was a buzzing sound coming from nearby. It sounded like a vibrating phone, so Oswald checked his, but there was no notification on the screen.

 

“Jim? I think that was your phone.”

 

The detective fished his phone from under the pillow he’d been given, scoffing when he checked it.

 

“Nine missed calls… what the…”

 

“Everything okay?” Oswald asked, watching as Jim’s brows furrowed. 

 

“Yeah, just my mom terrorising me with calls and messages.”

 

“See, I told you that you should have called her.”

 

Jim clucked with his tongue.

 

“Come, Martin, let’s give Jim some privacy.”

 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to go. I’ll just text her that I’m snowed in.”

 

However, the phone kept buzzing from time to time and Oswald could see that each new message made Jim more and more tense, annoyance rolling off him in waves. Oswald wished he could help somehow, but he didn’t want Jim to think that he was nosy.

 

“I think I need some air,” Jim announced after a while and he got up.

 

Although it stopped snowing for the moment, Oswald frowned at the darkening sky. It wasn’t the best idea to be outside, as they were in the middle of nowhere and it was freezing.

 

“Jim, can you bring my bag inside?” Oswald hoped that the short trip would be enough to clear the detective’s head.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

While Jim was outside, his phone buzzed again on the sofa. Oswald got curious and turned the screen towards him. The moment he read the message, he wished he hadn’t. It was from Jim’s mother.

 

“Disappointed… I hoped you’d show up this year.”

 

Oswald looked at the door, wondering if Jim would be back soon. He thought about deleting the message before Jim returned, but if the detective ever found out, Jim would have been extremely upset. So he placed the phone in the position he left it. 

 

When Jim returned with their bags, Oswald quickly directed him towards his bedroom. He took his bag from the detective. “I have Martin’s presents here, don’t want him to see them before it’s time.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

After stashing them in his wardrobe, Oswald turned around. He was relieved that Jim was still there, looking at the painting on the wall. He wanted to keep the detective away from his phone for as long as possible.

 

“How about we make some dinner?”

 

“Sure, sounds good.”

 

However, Jim decided to check his messages first and Oswald’s heart almost broke as he watched Jim’s expression change. The detective stared at the screen as his face fell, then every line hardened. Oswald gently led Martin to the kitchen, leaving Jim alone in case he needed some time to himself.

 

“Would you like to eat anything in particular?”

 

Martin thought for a moment, then he wrote his answer. _ “Grilled cheese.” _

 

“Oh, good choice. Let’s see if there are any soup cans in the pantry.”

 

Oswald found several types, but Martin opted for the classic tomato. They took butter and cheese from the fridge and brought them to the counter. Oswald needed a pot for the soup and as he went to get it, he peeked into the living room. Jim was sat there unmoving, with his head in his hands.

 

Impossible as it was, Oswald wished he could go there and comfort Jim, but their relationship wasn’t like that; even if they’d been rather civil in the past day, the longest they had spent together at once. He shook his head, trying to brush aside the myriad of emotions that seemed tied to Jim. He showed Martin how to make the sandwiches while he prepared the soup, improving it with herbs he found in the cupboard.

 

Jim walked into the kitchen after a few minutes and he helped set the table while Oswald finished the sandwiches, waiting for the cheddar to become gooey. He noticed that sadness lingered around Jim’s eyes, even though he managed to hide it mostly. 

 

Oswald tried to cheer Jim up with various stories about Martin while they ate, telling him about one time he tried to escape from Mrs. Varga’s care and take a bus to Gotham.

 

“He had three dollars and twenty cents in his pocket,” Oswald said.

 

“That’s a real fortune,” Jim said, laughing. “I’m sure he would have made it.”

 

“No doubt. Good thing Mrs. Varga’s son caught him. And that was only the first attempt.”

 

Martin shook his head while Jim laughed even harder. “Really?”

 

Oswald huffed. “Poor Mrs. Varga, I need to give her a bonus. He told her that I called and wrote fake letters in my name to send him to Gotham. You know, one time he even made a parachute from a pillowcase.”

 

“I didn’t know you were such a troublemaker,” Jim told Martin, then turned towards Oswald. “You have to admit that he’s very inventive, though.”

 

“Don’t encourage, the boy, Jim,” Oswald said and tried to look upset when he glanced at Martin, even though he was very proud of him. “He knows better than to cause so much trouble for me and Mrs. Varga.”

 

Martin just stuck his tongue out.

 

“Your manners, Martin, have you forgotten them?”

 

The boy shook his head, writing in his notepad. _ “Mrs. Varga doesn’t know any games. And I wanted to see you.” _

 

“Oh, you. Flattery will get you a long way,” Oswald said and shook his head, but couldn’t hide his smile.

 

“Try not to give Oswald another scare, okay? We’re here now, so if you get bored we can play something,” Jim told Martin, tousling his hair with an amused expression.

 

The detective got up, Oswald following his hesitant movements. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but in the end he briefly squeezed the gangster’s shoulder, swallowing as he glanced at Oswald. “Thank you.”

 

Fearing that his words would be inadequate, Oswald just nodded, watching Jim leave the kitchen, letting out a small sigh. At least he managed to make him forget about his family issues for a brief time, even if Jim went back to moping.

 

Suddenly, Oswald felt Martin’s hand on his. The boy looked at him with an impish expression before showing him the notebook.

 

_ “Do you want to kiss the policeman?” _

 

Oswald spluttered, his cheeks instantly becoming crimson. Peeking outside in order to make sure that Jim wasn’t around, he whispered, “That doesn’t matter!” Then he looked back at Martin’s grinning face. “Besides, you’re too young for this.”

 

It seemed as if his words made Martin even more enthusiastic.

 

_ “I’ll help!” _

 

“Oh no, you will not, young man,” Oswald said, grabbing Martin by his shoulders and steering him towards his room. “If you want to help, then please go and put on your pjs!”

 

Oswald shook his head as he put the dirty dishes in the sink, leaving them to soak until morning, while he tried not to think of what Martin told him. What a perceptive little boy he was! He had to be careful; if even Martin noticed his crush, then it wouldn’t be too hard for a detective to figure it out either.

 

When Oswald returned to the living room, Martin was already waiting for him in his pyjamas with rockets and stars on it, a colourful book in his hand. 

 

_ “Will you please read to me?”  _ he showed it to Oswald on his notepad.

 

“Of course. Which book did you bring?”

 

Oswald took a better look at the red cover. “ _ Fortunately, the Milk _ . Neil Gaiman. Oh, this sounds interesting, let’s see.”

 

“There was only orange juice in the fridge. Nothing else that you could put on cereal, unless you think that ketchup or mayonnaise or pickle juice would be nice on your Toastios, which I do not, and neither does my little sister, although she has eaten some pretty weird things in her day, like mushrooms in chocolate,” Oswald read the first page, Martin giggling and leaning against him to look at the drawings.

 

The novel was really funny, Oswald’s cheeks started hurting from grinning so much. Martin was enjoying himself immensely, and he could even hear Jim snorting from time to time. When Oswald got to the part about the protagonist being saved by a Stegosaurus, Martin stopped him while he wrote something.

 

_ “You’re not doing the dinosaur’s voice well.” _

 

“Oh really? What’s wrong with it?” Oswald asked, confused by the impish smile on Martin’s face.

 

_ “It’s not deep enough.” _

 

Oswald tried again, but Martin just shook his head. He scribbled something on his notepad and before Oswald could read it, Martin shyly went to Jim, balancing on his heels as he showed what he wrote.

 

“You want me to read the dinosaur’s parts?” Jim asked, surprised.

 

Oswald watched as Martin nodded and then looked back at him, Jim also glancing at him curiously. His heart started beating a little bit faster.

 

“If you feel up to it, Jim, you’re very welcome.”

 

Jim moved to the sofa and Martin sat in the middle, between the two men, holding the book in his lap. Oswald squeezed closer, so that he could see the text. He cleared his throat, then reread the protagonist’s line.

 

“You’re a Stegosaurus!”

 

“I am an inventor,” Jim read, in a deep voice, making it sound fancy too, to match the character’s personality. “I have invented the thing we are travelling in, which I call Professor Steg’s Floaty-Ball-Person-Carrier.”

 

“I call it a balloon,” Oswald read and Martin laughed, Jim and Oswald sharing a smile over his head.

 

So Oswald and Jim read on, Jim assuming various roles, like a  _ wumpire _ , an alien, galactic police and other crazy characters, to the last page. Martin was delighted and he seemed to want the two men to start reading the book again.

 

“No, no, it’s getting late. You need to go to bed, young man,” Oswald said, taking Martin’s hand in his.

 

The boy turned back to wave at the detective.

 

“Sleep well, Martin,” Jim said.

 

Oswald tucked Martin in, smiling as the boy hugged the polar bear to himself. He couldn’t help it and kissed his forehead. “Sweet dreams, little one.”

 

After turning off the light, Oswald went back to the living room, leaning against the door frame. “Do you need anything else, Jim? A night cap?”

 

“No, I’m fine. But thank you.”

 

Oswald nodded, yawning. “I’m going to bed. Hope you sleep well.”

 

“Thanks. Good night, Oswald.”

 

Trudging to his bedroom, Oswald smiled tiredly as he changed into his silk pyjamas. He had Jim Gordon sleeping in his living room, who’d have thought that would ever happen. Although he’d probably be gone tomorrow, Oswald enjoyed the day he’d spent together with him and Martin. The boy certainly seemed to like the detective, though Oswald really hoped he’d stop meddling and didn’t try to get them together. Although he had to admit that reading the book together with Jim was very fun.

 

Oswald’s last thought was of Jim and Martin fixing the plane together and he fell asleep with a smile on his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I know this is so late and this was supposed to be a much shorter fic. Anyway, hope you'll like this giant chapter. Oh yeah and as suspected, there will be one more part left.
> 
> Many thanks to Nekomata58919 for the beta! :) Eternal thanks to skeleton_twins too, without whom I would have given up a long time ago. Luckily, her brilliant mind supplied me with tons of amazing ideas.

Despite his hopes, the weather didn’t improve by next morning; on the contrary, it got worse. Oswald watched with concern the flurry of the seemingly infinite number of snowflakes as he tied his silk robe. Jim would not be happy about it and he sincerely hoped that he wouldn’t get in trouble with Mrs. Gordon.

 

Oswald wanted to sneak out to the kitchen without waking the detective, hoping that the morning coffee he was going to make would appease the bad mood that might be caused by the weather. However, Jim was already in the kitchen: he was trying to figure out the coffee machine. It also seemed that he had washed the dishes from dinner and Oswald stared at him for a second before making his presence known.

 

“Good morning, Jim.”

 

“Morning.”

 

“Let me help you with that,” Oswald said as he pressed the right buttons, then leaned against the counter. “Looks like the weather didn’t improve.”

 

“Mmh, so it does,” Jim said, shrugging. “You’re stuck with me for a while.”

 

Oswald laughed. “It’s because you were stubborn.”

 

“I’m glad I was,” Jim said quietly and Oswald blushed, suddenly becoming busy with pouring coffee into their mugs.

 

Martin wasn’t so subtle about his joy caused by Jim’s extended stay ‒ he smiled enough on Oswald’s behalf too. Breakfast was spent nicely, but after that Oswald noticed Jim becoming tense as he grabbed his phone, and he told Martin not to bother Jim while he was talking.

 

Oswald made himself busy, washing up and doing other chores so Jim wouldn’t think that he was eavesdropping. He heard scraps of sentences, from which he deduced that Jim had explained the situation to his mother.

 

“It’s  _ fine _ , mom,” Jim said, pressing on ‘fine’ with repressed irritation.

 

Oswald glanced in the living room; Jim was pacing up and down, fingers brushing through his hair.

 

“There’s everything here, don’t worry. Won’t freeze or die of starvation or anything. Yeah, yeah, talk to you later.”

 

Well, at least the call didn’t go in a bad direction, or at least Jim didn’t allow it, Oswald thought. He thought he’d linger in the kitchen for a little while, let Jim recollect himself if needed. However, Oswald heard Jim greeting someone a few moments later. He peered inside the room, expecting Jim to have the phone against his ear, talking to Bullock maybe, but instead he saw Martin sit beside Jim, writing in his notepad.

 

“Yes, I was talking to my mom.”

 

Martin’s reply made Jim smile. “Yeah, I think I might be in a bit of trouble. Moms are like that.”

 

The boy took his notepad again, turning it to Jim. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t get to know your mom. I’m sure she was nice.”

 

Oswald practically glued himself to the wall when Jim looked up, hoping that the detective didn’t notice him. His leg started aching a bit, but he wanted to hear more of the conversation. Jim was steering it nicely, and seeing Martin’s slightly melancholic expression, he looked at the boy with a conspiratorial smile.

 

“Do you want to hear a secret?”

 

Naturally, Martin nodded enthusiastically, leaning closer to Jim to hear his whispered reply. “I’m actually glad I ended up here with you and Oswald.”

 

Oswald was very curious about what Martin could have replied to that, since Jim looked extremely pleased with his response. But then Martin added something more and suddenly Jim blushed so much, Oswald could see it spread even to his neck and ears. Nevertheless, Jim bit his lip, trying not to let his smile become a full-blown grin.

 

“Want to do something fun?” At Martin’s nod, Jim continued, “Let’s go and build a snowman!”

 

Oswald shook his head, willing away the daze that Jim’s smile always gave him, wondering if he’d ever get used to it and knowing, deep, deep down, that the answer was no, that even if he lived forever, he’d see Jim’s smile as a wonder, something to be cherished and to be loved with his whole being. 

 

After chiding himself for his romantic thoughts, Oswald took a deep breath and joined Martin and Jim in the living room. “Did I hear something about snowman building?”

 

“Yes, want to join us?”

 

Of course, Oswald would have gone anyway, but Martin grabbing his hand and looking at him with puppy eyes convinced him completely. “Alright, but you need to bundle up properly.”

 

Martin ran off to his room to dress in proper clothes for a ‒ no doubt ‒ roll in the fresh snow. Oswald looked down at himself; his sweater and casual trousers would have to do. He did need some gloves, though.

 

“Are you equipped for going outside, Jim? Do you need anything?”

 

“Got gloves and a scarf, that should be enough,” Jim said as he moved to put on his boots.

 

“So no cap… Let me get you one.” Oswald moved to the wardrobe that had all kinds of random clothes.

 

“You don’t have to,” Jim tried to protest, already in the hallway, zipping up his coat, but Oswald didn’t let him go.

 

“I don’t want your ears to freeze and fall off. Besides, you need to be an example for Martin,” Oswald said seriously, putting a dark grey beanie over Jim’s head, mindful of his nice blond locks of hair.

 

“Thanks,” Jim replied, smiling and Oswald was hit again by his beauty, his hand lingering on Jim’s cheek.

 

Heat flooded Oswald’s whole body as they stared at each other, lips curled into smiles. Oswald’s fingertips tingled, as if Jim’s skin was electrified. The detective opened his lips slightly, pupils dilating in the dim hallway, as if he wanted to say something, but then the magical moment was interrupted as Martin ran back to them, dressed in thicker clothes.

 

“I’ll get going, see where we could build the snowman.” Jim coughed, putting on his scarf and gloves, then left the cottage.

 

Oswald first helped Martin with his boots, then with his impermeable coat. The boy zipped it up, then looked at his notepad and at Oswald questioningly.

 

“Leave it here, it would just get wet outside,” Oswald said and Martin nodded, pulling on his blue, knitted hat with ear flaps and running outside after Jim.

 

Driven by curiosity, Oswald took the notepad, eyes sliding over the answers. He finally got to the last sentences, the ones Jim reacted to by blushing. 

 

_ I’m glad you’re here too. _

 

And under it:

 

_ You make Oswald happy. _

 

Oh no, did Martin really show that to Jim? Good lord, the child was meddling way too much in this, who knew what Jim was thinking of him now! Maybe in the end he’d come to the conclusion that his whole thing was a setup, that Oswald made it so that Jim got stuck at their cottage.

 

Oswald scolded himself for being silly and joined the boys who were already making the base of the snowman. Jim and Oswald were building the snowman in front of the house, so it could be seen from the living room window. The ball was getting bigger and bigger and Oswald watched as Martin and Jim rolled it together, laughing.

 

Gathering snow himself, Oswald started forming a snowball, adding to it until it got too big to hold. Jim and Martin finally rolled the big snowball into place and Jim took over the second one from Oswald. 

 

“Thanks,” he said, slightly panting.

 

Oswald watched, fascinated, as Martin and Jim rolled the second part, laughing when Martin slipped and fell on his back. Jim helped him up, brushing off snow from his jacket. They continued and Oswald started on the snowman’s head, taking a few steps. His knee definitely didn’t like this weather, so he was relieved that Jim and Martin were doing all the kneeling and bending.

 

Finally, all their hard work came together when they assembled the snowman: Jim placed the second snowball on top of the big one and Oswald carefully put its head on top.

 

“Right. Now we need to decorate it,” Oswald said as he took a step back. “I’ll go inside for a carrot, you should look for pebbles and twigs.”

 

Martin took the mission very seriously; he ran off and Oswald looked wistfully after him, stomach clenched with worry that he’d go too far away. He couldn’t run after Martin, the snow was too deep for his aching leg. But what if he got hurt?

 

“I’ll look after him,” Jim said, putting his hand on Oswald’s shoulder.

 

_ Thank you _ , Oswald mouthed and Jim smiled, then ran after Martin, calling his name and waving. Once assured that the boy wouldn’t go too far, Oswald stomped his feet to make the snow fall off his boots before he entered the house. He took one of the carrots from the pantry, hurrying back.

 

Martin returned with two twigs which became the snowman’s arms. He also had a few pebbles in his pocket ‒ a bigger one and four little ones. The big one was the snowman’s eye, the rest formed his mouth. It was almost complete, the snowman just needed another eye.

 

“We need another pebble. A big one,” Oswald told Martin who was ready to get one, but Jim had just appeared by Oswald’s side then.

 

He extended his hand, revealing a black pebble in his palm. “Got it.”

 

Oswald looked up at Jim’s face and forgot about everything as he suddenly registered Jim’s soft smile. Even his eyes seemed bluer out here, the colour accentuated by the snow surrounding them.

 

“Thank you,” Oswald said and he gave it to Martin, so that he’d put the last piece on their snowman.

 

Oswald stepped back to admire their work, smiling when he felt Jim’s arm brush against his.

 

“What a handsome snowman.”

 

Although he wasn’t an expert in the matter, Oswald had to agree. “Indeed. Very tall and big.”

 

Martin smiled then ran around it to check that everything was fine. He then pointed at something in the back, signalling that something was wrong with it. When Jim went to check it, however, he was greeted with snow in his face, Martin shrieking at his prank and running away.

 

“You won’t get away with that, you little mischief maker!”

 

Soon, Oswald found himself in the middle of a snowball fight and Martin dragged him to some bushes, yelping in excitement as Jim was sending his snow bombs towards them. He lowered himself on his knees, feeling the cool, hard ground underneath, but the boy was very excited, so Oswald was producing snowballs for him, while also word-sparring with Jim.

 

“You’re never going to win!”

 

Jim was not intimidated by Oswald’s taunt. “Oh really? Just watch, I’m fighting alone, but I’m still going to kick your asses.”

 

Martin was laughing hysterically, but Oswald popped up his head from safety. “Language, James!”

 

“Sorry,” Jim yelled and his newest ball hit Oswald smack in the face. 

 

Jim was very much aware of the offence he’d caused, for his eyes widened as Oswald was spitting and brushing snow from his cheek. 

 

“Hey, you mor-!” Oswald suddenly stopped, realising what he was about to say. He quickly corrected himself, “You monkey!”

 

Jim snorted, his right eyebrow quirked. “Monkey?”

 

Oswald blushed. “Just trying to teach Martin better.”

 

Martin sent a snowball towards Jim, hitting his shoulder, but he dodged the next one, hiding behind the corner. Oswald felt a tug on his sleeve, turning towards his grinning team mate. Martin pointed towards Jim, then started writing in the snow. He got to  _ MOR  _ before Oswald stopped him, brushing the letters away.

 

“I know you know the word, but we don’t have to resort to such low language. You have to be the bigger person.”

 

Martin nodded, gathering snow dutifully to make new snowballs.

 

“We need a good strategy to take Jim down together. He’s very cheeky.”

 

Oswald starting explaining the tactics in a hushed voice: he’d distract Jim while Martin would sneak behind his back and they would attack Jim with snowballs until he was on his knees. Martin and Oswald high fived, then with a nod Oswald got on his feet, cringing at how soaked his trousers became.

 

“Stop right there!” Jim shouted after Oswald made a few steps.

 

“I come in peace, detective,” Oswald said, suppressing a smile. “I would wave a white flag if I had one.”

 

Jim peeked from behind the corner, pelting Oswald with two snowballs.

 

“C’mon,” Oswald whined, even though the snowballs missed him. He needed to draw the detective out, to create a distraction, so that Martin could attack from behind. “I surrender.”

 

“I don’t trust you,” Jim said, even though he stepped forward. “You’re planning something.”

 

“Not at all, I just want to go inside. My leg’s hurting,” Oswald said and he only had to exaggerate his grimace slightly.

 

Jim’s expression became soft in an instant and Oswald felt a bit guilty as he approached him with obvious concern. From the corner of his eye he saw Martin sneaking behind Jim, so he knew it was time to attack.

 

“Now!” Oswald yelled and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, to push Jim back perhaps, so that Martin could hit him straight in the face.

 

Instead, what he managed to do was to slip on a patch of ice. Oswald flailed his arms in a futile attempt to regain his balance, but he knew he was going to fall face first. What he didn’t calculate with was that Jim hurried to his aid, but he, too, was swept off his feet by Oswald’s weight, so in the end Jim had ended up falling on his back and Oswald on top of him. 

 

Oswald gasped as Jim’s hands came up to his shoulders ‒ the detective’s hands were so strong. But what made his heart thump madly was that their faces were so, so close and Oswald glanced at Jim’s lips, the way they curled into a smile.

 

“You okay?” Oswald asked and Jim barely had time to nod before Martin sent the first snowball, hitting Jim’s arm.

 

Oswald suddenly realised he was also supposed to fight Jim, so he scrambled to straddle him, gathering snow and rubbing it against Jim’s exposed cheek.

 

“Traitors!” Jim shrieked as he was ambushed from two ways, but he was laughing so hard he could barely fend off the attacks.

 

Martin was gleefully shoveling snow onto Jim, and Oswald thought he’d leave the boy alone in his antics, as his knee started straining. Profiting from Oswald’s momentary lapse, Jim quickly switched their positions, grinning into Oswald’s surprised face.

 

“Payback!” Jim announced, trying to get snow under Oswald’s scarf and coat, making the gangster yelp when he felt cold against his skin. “Come on, Martin, help me!”

 

“What?” Oswald yelled, hitting Jim’s arm, only stopping when Martin too pressed snow against his neck.

 

“I can’t believe this, aaaah! Even you, Martin, betraying me like that!” Oswald gasped as more snow was pushed in his direction, Martin’s small hand reaching under his shirt. “I surrender! I give up!”

 

“What do you say, Martin?” Jim asked. “Should we give him mercy or torture him a bit more?”

 

Jim chuckled as Martin was about to form another snowball, but Oswald caught him and rolled with him in the fresh snow, both screaming in delight.

 

“That’s for changing to Jim’s side,” Oswald said, brushing snow from Martin’s beanie.

 

The boy grinned at him, then Jim got up and extended his hand, helping Oswald onto his feet.

 

“Alright?”

 

Oswald nodded. “We should really go inside and change before we catch a cold.”

 

When the warm air inside the cottage hit him, Oswald sighed with relief. He helped Martin take off his coat, scarf, beanie and gloves, noting how wet they were. “Change into something dry, alright?” he told the boy before he went to his room.

 

Jim smiled at him and Oswald had to look down after a few seconds, blushing but reciprocating the smile. He couldn’t forget the feel of being so close to the detective, even if there were many layers of clothes and snow between them.

 

God, he wanted to feel Jim’s hand against his bare skin so badly… and then Jim took off the beanie Oswald had lent him and the gangster watched with thinly veiled hunger how a blond lock fell on his forehead. If only he could brush it back and then stroke Jim’s cheeks, so beautifully pink from the effort and cold.

 

“That was fun, right?”

 

“Yes, very. I haven’t had a snowball fight in like twenty years or more,” Jim replied, ruffling his hair to make it dry faster, and Oswald’s eyes lingered on the dark blond strands which looked incredibly silky.

 

“You definitely need to put on some dry clothes,” Jim said, making Oswald look away from his hair.

 

“Yeah, I hate wet socks.”

 

Oswald reemerged in a navy blue sweater, rubbing his hands. “Would you care for some hot chocolate?”

 

There was something about Jim’s smile. “What?”

 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so casually dressed.”

 

“Oh, well, no need for formal wear here,” Oswald huffed, going to the kitchen.

 

“Didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Jim said, leaning against the doorframe. “Just unusual, but it suits you.”

 

“Thanks,” Oswald said quietly and focused on making the hot chocolate, which proved to be a rather difficult task with Jim standing so close and helping him.

 

But finally it was done and Jim called Martin too, all three enjoying the rich beverage. Martin even got some marshmallows in his, though Oswald joked that he didn’t deserve them for his stunt earlier when he took Jim’s side.

 

“You had it coming for tricking me.”

 

_ “Sorry?”  _ Martin wrote, grinning.

 

“I know you’re not, don’t even try,” Oswald laughed, sipping his drink.

 

He almost choked when a warm hand was laid on his bad knee. “I do hope your knee is alright?”

 

Oswald looked up at Jim, swallowing as his palm made circular movements. “Yeah, it’s fine. Thank you, Jim.”

 

Martin was smirking and Oswald would have glared at him, but the boy had a chocolate moustache and Oswald couldn’t help, but laugh at him, wiping it away with a kitchen towel. Jim was watching them with his head propped on one hand, smiling.

 

Unfortunately, their idyllic scene was interrupted by Jim’s phone. “Uh, it’s the Commissioner. This will be long, I’m sorry,” he apologised before going to the living room to take the call.

 

“Let’s go to your room, show me your fight moves,” Oswald suggested.

 

Oswald nodded when Martin showed the heart stabbing movement ‒ the boy learned easily and remembered things well, even though Oswald hadn’t had the opportunity to train him in months. 

 

After several minutes of practise, Oswald thought it was time to teach Martin something new. “Now, sometimes your attacker could be a tall person, so then this trick wouldn’t work on them. Instead, you need to stab them in the thigh. There’s this big vein there and if you get it, the person bleeds out in a matter of minutes.”

 

“What the hell, Oswald?! Is this what you mean by teaching Martin better?”

 

Oswald closed his eyes; Jim’s accusing voice felt as if someone had splashed him with a bucket of ice-cold water. Oswald turned towards Jim, trying to keep calm. “He needs to know such things as well.”

 

“Really? A nine-year-old’s biggest concern should be which toy to play with, not which method is best to kill someone.”

 

“You don’t know anything, Jim!” Oswald clenched his fist, then looked at Martin. “Go in the kitchen, my boy.”

 

As obedient as Martin usually was, however, he shook his head.

 

“I know one thing and that’s children shouldn’t be given weapons. Martin, give me the knife, please.”

 

To his credit, Martin looked at Oswald first and only after he nodded did the boy hand Jim the knife.

 

“Do you realise what you expose him to? The kinds of danger?”

 

“I don’t think you realise the kinds of danger he’s exposed to if he doesn’t know how to defend himself. We’re in the middle of nowhere, but there could always be a  _ well-wisher _ who finds out about Martin and decides to use him as leverage against me. Or even worse. So you can imagine that I sleep better at night knowing that Martin knows these things.”

 

Jim looked as if he was about to explode any second. “This would not be a concern at all if you only brought him back to Gotham.”

 

“I just told you I don’t want people to use him against me, and that risk would increase tenfold if he were in Gotham. What’s so hard to understand about it?!”

 

“For God’s sake, Oswald, you’re rich enough to have bodyguards beside Martin every hour of the day. You could even pay Zsasz to take care of him.”

 

“I can’t risk it again,” Oswald snapped, looking defiantly at Jim. “I just can’t!” 

 

“You wouldn’t-”

 

“You don’t know what that’s like Jim, you  _ don’t  _ have a child!” Oswald yelled and the moment those words left his mouth he knew it was a mistake even before he watched Jim’s face fall and his eyes become misty.

 

Jim looked at Martin for a second, then at Oswald, before he left. His silence hurt more than if he  had said anything.

 

Oswald stood in the middle of the room, defeated, lost in regrets, until Martin touched his hand and led him to the window. They watched as Jim trudged through the snow and disappeared in the woods behind the house.

 

This time it hurt more than all the other instances when Jim had walked away, because Oswald thought they both let their guards down and let that connection between them form freely.

 

There was the sound of pen on paper.  _ “Will he return?” _

 

“I…” Oswald stood there, painful lump forming in his throat. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

 

Hours went by and Oswald grew more concerned with each minute. He tried to put on a brave face for Martin’s sake. He prepared lunch and encouraged the boy to eat while he only picked at his food, glancing at the window every five seconds. They played board games and watched TV, though Oswald’s mind wasn’t really in any activity.

 

All he could think of was the way Jim looked at him when Oswald threw those cruel, cruel words at him. It was so unfair; Oswald knew very well that Lee had carried Jim’s child and yet Jim chose to fight beside him on that fateful night against Galavan. The rest was even more tragic. Jim already knew sacrifice, way too much of it, and that wasn’t right.

 

Besides, didn’t he have the three nieces? Oswald had seen how great Jim was with Martin, the girls, too, probably adored their uncle. Also, there was the Wayne boy; from the day that his parents were murdered, Jim had been there for him, supporting and guiding him, like a gentle, loving parental figure.

 

Oswald wasn’t even aware that he was tapping his foot until Martin brought his attention to it. 

 

“Sorry, just worried.”

 

_ “Jim is a policeman, he should be okay, right?” _

 

Oswald swallowed. “Yes, yes, of course.” 

 

If only Jim had taken his phone, but the object lay there on the table, taunting Oswald.

 

But soon, it started getting dark and there was still no sign of Jim. Oswald bit his nails as he watched the silent woods, the dark space between the trunks of the trees obscure and looming. What if Jim froze somewhere? Or he tripped on a rock, hit his head and was lying dead, a halo of blood on the snow around him?

 

“I have to go after him,” Oswald said and got up, shaking with nervous energy.

 

_ “I’m coming with you.” _

 

“No, you have to stay here, Martin. It’s too dangerous out there. Besides, what if Jim returns in the meantime?” 

 

Oswald made sure that Martin had his phone. “If I don’t come back in an hour, text Mrs. Varga. Tell her to come here immediately and then to call me. Alright?”

 

Martin nodded solemnly and watched as Oswald put on his boots and coat. He gripped Oswald’s hand, and the gangster knew that he was afraid.

 

“It’s alright, don’t you worry. Now go back to your room and keep the phone with you.”

 

Oswald watched Martin hurry to his room, then took a deep breath, preparing himself for the cold. He looked for his gloves in his coat’s pocket, but instead he found a round object. The snow globe for Jim, he had completely forgotten about it. Oswald swallowed; he hoped Jim would come back and he could give him the trinket.

 

He opened the door, orange light spilling onto the snow. Suddenly, there was some movement on the right and the crunch of snow.

 

Oswald’s heart almost escaped his ribcage when he distinguished the detective’s silhouette.

 

“Jim!”

 

“Where are you going?”.

 

“After you, you dummy, I thought you froze to death somewhere!” Oswald couldn’t stop his voice from being shaky.

 

He grabbed Jim’s hands and dragged him inside, closing the door after them. “Your hands are so cold!” Oswald exclaimed, holding Jim’s hands in his, trying to rub some heat into them.

 

“You were worried about me,” the detective said with a tired smile and Oswald looked up from their joined hands.

 

“Well, you just strolled off, what if something happened to you?!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jim said quietly, eyes cast down. “For running out on you and for shouting. I know it wasn’t my place and… uh, I had time to think while being out. I understand your reasons and I’m sorry that I tried to meddle into your business. So please forgive me.”

 

“Oh, Jim… no, it’s me who should apologise, I was very cruel and inconsiderate. I didn’t mean it, it just slipped.”

 

“It’s alright,” Jim whispered, his hands gently sliding up Oswald’s arms, squeezing his biceps.

 

Oswald wanted nothing more in that moment than to hug Jim, to put his arms around him and never let him go. Jim’s nose was still red, but he looked so earnest and his eyes were so soft, Oswald was tempted to put his hands on his hips and bring him closer. Jim was watching his face, maybe looking for something, maybe he wanted to say something, but then Oswald heard the floor creak behind him.

 

Martin was watching them and when Jim smiled at him something seemed to have happened between the two ‒ Oswald watched, fascinated, as Jim crouched and caught Martin who ran towards him, lifting the boy and hugging him tightly. Oswald thought his heart would melt from seeing Martin put his arms around Jim’s neck so tightly and Jim kissing the top of his head.

 

“Hey, little buddy. Did you miss me?”

 

Martin nodded vigorously, Jim smiling. 

 

“I missed you too. But I brought home a surprise. I found this very nice pine tree, so I guess we’ll have a Christmas tree.”

 

Still holding Martin, Jim opened the door a bit, leaning outside and showing the boy something by the shed. Oswald peeked outside too, mouth hanging open when he realised Jim was telling the truth. They closed the door and Jim put Martin down so he could take his coat off.

 

“How did you get that?”

 

“With the knife. Which is ruined, by the way. But I just couldn’t leave the tree there, I hope it’s not a problem.”

 

Oswald shook his head. “No, it’s fine. The forest also belongs to the cottage. Can’t believe you dragged the tree all the way back, though.”

 

“Can’t have Christmas without a tree.”

 

Jim smiled as Martin took him by his hand and led him to the living room, Oswald telling them to sit by the fireplace. Meanwhile, he looked for a blanket in his room, one that was soft and thick enough to warm Jim up. Oswald unfolded it and put it around Jim’s shoulders, unable to stop himself from squeezing the detective’s biceps with affection.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“How about I make you some soup? We have a lot of ramen packages.”

 

“I don’t want to bother you…”

 

Oswald shook his head. “There’s no bother.”

 

Martin refused to leave Jim’s lap even while they had dinner, despite Oswald pleas to leave Jim alone. But Jim told him it was alright, that he didn’t mind at all; on the contrary, he was glad. Oswald busied himself with preparing the food, the sight of Jim and Martin too much for his mind. Just twenty minutes ago he was worried whether Jim was still alive and now the detective was inadvertently making Oswald fall harder for him.

 

After they were done with dinner, Oswald wanted to give a bath to Martin, who of course was holding onto Jim even more tightly.

 

“Come on, it’s getting late,” Oswald nagged him, but it wasn’t until Jim assured Martin that he wasn’t go anywhere that the boy followed Oswald into the bathroom.

 

Once Martin was in the tub, it was easier to distract him with toys. However, after a few minutes, he signed to Oswald to give him his notepad.

 

When he saw Martin’s impish smile, Oswald knew it was a mistake.

 

_ “Did you kiss Jim when he came back?” _

 

Oswald snatched the notepad out of Martin’s hands, but he couldn’t hide the blush of his cheeks. He did the best he could to escape the child’s curiosity: poured water on Martin’s head. Both Oswald and Martin giggled, splashing water at each other.

 

After the bath, Oswald helped Martin with his pyjamas, then dried his hair. By the time they finished, it was getting late, so Oswald told Martin that he should say goodnight to Jim and then go to bed. 

 

Oswald knew that Martin was a very affectionate child, but he did not expect him to get so close to Jim. It seemed like they got really attached to each other, because Jim, too, was holding Martin, whispering something in his ear. The boy smiled at him then went with Oswald who was dying of curiosity.

 

“What did Jim tell you?”

 

Martin shook his head, obviously delighted by the secret he had with Jim. Oswald tucked him in and kissed his forehead. “Sleep well. Big day tomorrow.”

 

Oswald smiled as he turned off the light and he went back to the living room where Jim was relaxing by the fireplace, watching the news in the tv.

 

“Would you care for a nightcap?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

“I think I saw some whiskey in the kitchen.”

 

Oswald thought about bringing the bottle and two glasses, but then he changed his mind - he didn’t want them to accidentally drink more than necessary. Just a bit to relax and then to go to bed. Jim was certainly tired after his trek in the woods, so he accepted his glass gratefully.

 

“Cheers!”

 

“Oh, did you want some ice with yours? Wait, let me bring-”

 

Jim reached out and caught Oswald’s wrist, making the gangster forget how to breathe. “Stop fussing over me. Sit down and relax, you deserve it.”

 

They sat quietly, watching the newscaster announce even more snow in the whole region, images of blocked roads and snowy landscapes flashing across the screen.

 

“So, we’ll still be snowed in,” Jim said as he took a sip.

 

“Yes, unless you make another run for it,” Oswald teased. “But don’t worry, you have everything you might need here, a bed and enough food.”

 

“And good company,” Jim whispered.

 

Oswald’s cheeks became pink. “Well, I try, even if I mess up sometimes.”

 

Jim covered Oswald’s hand with his, which was surprisingly warm. The detective’s fingers stroked his hand slowly and Oswald finally plucked some courage and looked down, even though he was afraid that the whole thing was an illusion.

 

“Why is your hand so red?”

 

Jim sounded embarrassed. “It’s nothing. From when I cut the tree. Think I even got a splinter.”

 

Oswald looked at Jim, swallowing. “Show me.”

 

Jim extended his left hand, palm up. “Right there, under my index finger.”

 

Oswald took Jim’s hand, bringing it closer to him. “That’s a splinter indeed. I can take it out.” 

 

Taking a needle from a sewing kit, Oswald returned to the sofa, amused by the way Jim’s eyes widened.

 

“Uh, Oswald, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

 

“Trust me, you won’t feel a thing.”

 

Jim still became tense, but Oswald didn’t worry: he’d learned how to take out splinters painlessly from Miss Annika, the strange neighbour in his mother’s building. She said her father was a woodworker in the Old World, so getting a splinter was a common occurrence. Oswald was careful and he worked with the needle quickly.

 

“There. It’s gone,” Oswald said, still holding onto Jim’s hand.

 

“Already? I didn’t feel anything!”

 

“Told you.” Oswald grinned as Jim leaned in to examine his palm, which didn’t hurt anymore. “Stay here.”

 

Oswald fetched a small container. He could have just given it to Jim to put it on his palms, but it was more enjoyable to do it himself, to feel the detective’s rough skin.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Just some aloe vera balm to soothe your skin,” Oswald replied, spreading the clear gel with feather light touches on Jim’s palm, fingers gliding easily over the red and swollen skin. “You really didn’t have to cut that tree. Look what it did to you, what was in your head?”

 

Jim shrugged. “I don’t know, I didn’t want to come back empty-handed.”

 

“You think I wouldn’t have let you inside or what?”

 

At Jim’s silence, Oswald snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“I thought I… that I upset you and you wouldn’t take me back.” 

 

Oswald stopped the massage for a second. It had never even crossed his mind not to let Jim come back. Their fight was nothing compared to some of the things that had transpired between them, and yet they always went back to each other.

 

“I thought you’ve realised by now that it is quite impossible for me to do such a thing.”

 

He didn’t mean to say it, to lay himself bare like this. If Jim ran out on him for real this time, it would be entirely his fault. After all, there was no doubt that Jim also felt the connection between them, and despite Oswald’s continuous efforts to appeal to it, Jim pretended not to notice it.

 

This time, however, Jim didn’t push him away, but took his hands and held on to them. He didn’t say anything, but when Oswald looked over at him, Jim broke into a smile. Oswald looked away, but didn’t let go. He just didn’t want all this to go to his head. What if they went back to their old ways once they were back in Gotham?

 

Jim must have sensed his sudden mood shift, because he squeezed Oswald’s hands. “Is something the matter?”

 

“No, everything’s fine. I think I’m just tired.”

 

“You should go to bed then,” Jim said gently and let go of Oswald’s hand.

 

“Yes and I bet you feel sleepy too, so I should leave you to rest.” Oswald rubbed his palms against the sofa, reluctant to leave.

 

Should he say something? Or just go to his room? Oswald only made two steps when he turned around. Whatever he’d achieved so far in life, it was because he took risks.

 

“Jim.” 

 

The detective, who was staring at the carpet, looked up instantly, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. “Yes, Oswald?”

 

“I was thinking… it’s really unfair to let you sleep on the couch. E-especially after your adventures,” Oswald said, wringing his hands. “Well, I wondered…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“The cottage is small, so there’s no extra room, but my bed is wide enough. That sofa can’t be good for your back.”

 

“You want us to share a bed?”

 

“I… yeah? Maybe? If you want to, of course.”

 

Jim nodded. “If you’re sure you won’t mind.”

 

“Of course not,” Oswald said, a bit too quickly, but it was worth it to see Jim smile.

 

Jim brought his pillow and blanket, standing uncertain in Oswald’s room. “Uh, which side do you sleep on?”

 

“Oh, I don’t mind. Whichever you prefer,” Oswald squealed, suddenly realising how awkward this was going to be. He grabbed his pyjamas and fled into the bathroom to change.

 

What was he thinking to invite Jim in his bed? Would he even be able to sleep beside the man he’d been in love with for years? Oswald tried to calm down with deep breaths while he changed, then he brushed his teeth and tried to stay as long as possible in the safety of the bathroom. Alas, he had to leave soon.

 

Jim was sitting on the edge of the bed ‒ he was already changed too, in grey sweatpants and an old army t-shirt.

 

“The bathroom is free if you want to go.”

 

Jim nodded and went inside, while Oswald fluffed his pillow and tried to find a good position. It was going to be fine, he assured himself. The bed was wide enough for three people, so they would be fine. Oswald listened to the sounds of Jim brushing his teeth, his heart beating faster when they stopped. He peeked at Jim over his blanket, who got into the bed as well, raising his eyebrows when he noticed that Oswald was watching him.

 

“Uh, do you want me to turn off the light?” Oswald asked, embarrassed.

 

“You can. No bedtime reading for me tonight.”

 

Oswald smiled as he reached for the lamp on his nightstand. Darkness enveloped everything and Oswald slipped lower on the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the thought that Jim was on his right.

 

It wasn’t easy, though, as Oswald could hear Jim’s breathing and feel the smallest movement when the bed springs adjusted. He thought he could even feel Jim’s warmth and the minty smell of his toothpaste. There was a kind of nervous tension, as if neither of them dared to breathe, and Oswald wanted to say something to break this strange atmosphere.

 

“Have I told you the story of my mom’s famous green cake?” Jim asked.

 

Oswald wanted to laugh; he and Jim didn’t really trade stories, but this was a very nice attempt at conversation. “No, what happened?”

 

“Well, she was baking this very complicated cake, with several layers and fillings. The first time, she burnt it. The second time, I am not sure what she put in that batter, but it turned out green.”

 

“Seriously? The cake itself was green?”

 

“Yeah, it looked normal on the outside, but when she cut it in half, we noticed it was this light green.”

 

“Oh god,” Oswald laughed. “What did she do?”

 

“Baked a new one. But of course she didn’t have enough eggs anymore, so Roger and I had to run to the store and get them. But guess who tripped on the way home?”

 

“You?” Oswald snorted as he laughed, embarrassed by the sound he made, but Jim was laughing even harder, making the bed shake. 

 

“Sorry,” Oswald said quietly, cheeks heating up even more as he heard Jim turning his head towards him.

 

“It’s alright.” Jim brushed his hand against Oswald’s. “But yes, it was me. I made scrambled eggs in the middle of the road. Anyway, Roger went back for another carton, so mom got to make the cake.”

 

“Did it come out nicely?”

 

“Yes, no more green batter or other surprises.” 

 

“Ah… I also want to bake some things tomorrow.”

 

“Hopefully nothing with green? Don’t think I can make a run for eggs.”

 

“Shush, you!” Oswald said, lightly pushing the Jim-shaped heap beside him.

 

Jim chuckled, then yawned.

 

“You should try to get some sleep,” Oswald advised.

 

“Yeah, you too. Night, Oswald.”

 

Oswald swallowed. “Good night, Jim.”

 

Even though he was still slightly agitated about Jim’s presence beside him, Oswald fell asleep easily, comforted by Jim’s slow breathing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT, that's right, I finally managed to finish this!!! I know, I know, almost 7 months, but hey, better late than never? Well, if anyone's reading this, I really hope you enjoy this fluffy ending.
> 
> I wanted to thank the people who commented on this in the past months - it helped me get through work and my thesis. :) Many thanks to destielfourever for the beta!

Most of the time, Oswald didn’t have to set alarms, for his body somehow learned to wake up at the time he needed to start his day. The next morning he woke at his usual time only for the briefest moment, though, as the bed was so comfortable and warm that his brain decided to go back to sleep. The next time he woke was because Martin was tugging at his hand. Oswald opened one eye only, peering at the boy curiously.

 

_ I'm hungry!!!  _ His notebook said and Oswald closed his eyes just for a moment.

 

“Coming.”

 

Only he couldn't get out of bed as swiftly as he wanted, an arm holding him securely by his middle. Martin giggled at his confused expression before scurrying out of the room. Oswald blushed to the tip of his ears as he realised that Jim was cuddling him, his chest against Oswald's back, holding Oswald as if he were a hard-won treasure.

 

Luckily, Jim was still in a deep sleep after his trek in the woods. Oswald carefully untangled himself from his hold, not without regrets. How he’d longed for this! Jim looked peaceful, expression serene. It was a good look on him, and though Oswald knew his concerns would return, he vowed to make Jim's stay as joyous as possible.

 

He put his robe on over his pyjamas, glancing at Jim from the doorway. What a glorious sight it was, Jim in his bed! It made him giddy, downright drunk with happiness. He knew it was something extraordinary, quite possibly a one-time occurrence, as Jim would probably travel to his mom's if the weather allowed it. It was Christmas Eve after all.

 

Christmas Eve… Oswald thought as he ruffled Martin's hair. He wanted Jim to stay so badly, but he knew it was selfish of him. After all, his family must be missing him, despite their differences. This would be Oswald's best Christmas anyway since his mother passed away. Truthfully, he didn’t really celebrate after that, but now with Martin around he wanted to make it an unforgettable experience for him.

 

“Would you like pancakes for breakfast?”

 

Martin's eyes lit up, and he nodded happily. Oswald took the needed ingredients and started preparing the batter quietly, so as not to wake Jim. He needn't have worried, however, as the detective was still out even when they finished setting the table with Martin.

 

Oswald glanced at the watch on the wall. “Go and wake him up.”

 

Based on Martin's impish smile, he had no doubts that Jim was going to get a special wake-up call. Twenty seconds later, Oswald could hear sounds coming from the bedroom, then Martin's cheerful yelps getting closer. Jim appeared in the kitchen door, giving Martin a piggy back ride while making horse sounds. Martin was spurring Jim on, patting his shoulder to go faster. Oswald wanted to capture that moment and keep it forever.

 

“I think the horse needs to rest and eat,” Oswald said, smiling at the sight of Jim's flushed cheeks.

 

Jim put Martin down, running his fingers through his tousled hair, and making Oswald's heart beat faster.

 

“Pancakes. My favourite!”

 

“Martin's too, as you can see.” Oswald laughed since Martin kept piling them on his plate.

 

Jim showed Martin his favourite way to eat pancakes, and Oswald almost pinched himself, just to make sure that this was real. Never in his wildest dreams would Oswald have imagined that he'd be having breakfast with Jim and Martin on Christmas morning.

 

After they finished, they took their drinks to the living room to watch a bit of TV. Martin's favourite cartoon was on, and he sat on the carpet while Jim and Oswald sipped their coffees on the sofa.

 

“How are your hands?”

 

Jim turned the right one towards Oswald. “Feels okay, only a bit red. Maybe, uh, you could-”

 

His phone rang then, Jim looking away. He clucked his tongue when he noticed the caller id. “My mom again,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

 

“Hi, mom.”

 

Oswald didn't want to eavesdrop, but he could hear a string of words. Mrs. Gordon sounded agitated, and Oswald thought he could hear the word ‘worried’ a few times.

 

“Mom, I'm okay, really,” Jim tried to convince her several times without any success. 

 

“Mom, listen…” 

 

Jim shook his head when Oswald looked at him, brows furrowed and lips set in a thin line.

 

“But I told you I'm not alone, mom… I'm with a friend… and his son.”

 

Oswald’s cheeks became red, but Jim kept his eyes on him, unflinching. After savouring the feeling for a moment, Oswald signalled to Jim to pass the phone to him. 

 

Jim raised his eyebrows, but didn't protest, too tired to fight against his mother's disbelief.

 

“Good morning, Mrs. Gordon. My name's Oswald Cobblepot. How are you? I'm afraid I dragged Jim with me, and he got stuck with us.”

 

There was a moment of silence before Jim's mom started speaking. “Oh, Mr. Cobblepot, I’m sorry, I thought Jim made you up.”

 

Oswald laughed, glancing at the detective. “No, why would he do that? And please call me Oswald.”

 

“Well, you'd be surprised, Oswald, with the excuses he comes up with. It's the same story every time: ‘Sorry, mom, I have to work’. Last year, he pretended to have the flu, but then that partner of his, Bullock, exposed him, bellowing from the background whether he wanted to go for a beer.”

 

Oswald just laughed, making Jim even more confused. "Yes, Detective Bullock is like that.” Oswald became more serious, drawing shapes with his finger in the sofa’s material. “I'm sorry for taking Jim away from his loved ones during the holidays, of course, people should be with their families this time of the year, but he was helping me get back to mine.”

 

“Sounds like Jim,” Mrs. Gordon replied in a resigned tone. 

 

“He’s a good man,” Oswald said quietly, avoiding Jim’s eyes.

 

“Do you have enough food there?”

 

“Of course, everything's been taken care of. We’re going to start baking a bit later.”

 

“Very nice. I really wish Jim would have told me about you, I wouldn't have bothered him so much then,” Mrs. Gordon said with a sigh.“Oswald, I will discuss this with Jim, but I would love to have you and your son over. Maybe you could visit for a couple of days when the weather clears up.”

 

Oswald was stunned, his chest suddenly filled with warmth and doubts equally. “That's so kind of you… but I don't know if Jim-”

 

“Don't you worry about him. I know he's stubborn, but I'm his mother.”

 

“Oh, well, it’s been quite unexpected for us as well.” Oswald noticed that Jim was gesturing for him to give his phone back, so he started saying goodbye. “I have to go now. Wishing you a Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gordon! I hope you have a lovely time!”

 

“Merry Christmas, Oswald! And please, come and visit with your son and Jim when the weather clears up.”

 

Oswald was stunned, giving Jim the phone without a word. He could hear Mrs. Gordon’s excited voice when Jim greeted her again.

 

“Mom, it’s not like that!” Jim exclaimed, heat rushing to his cheeks.

 

At Oswald’s inquisitive glance, Jim looked away quickly. “Mom… please, I told you… I don’t know, maybe? But it’s complicated... Yeah, yeah, will think about it. Merry Christmas, mom. Talk to you later.”

 

Oswald pretended to be engrossed by the cartoons when Jim looked at him. “Thanks for that, you probably saved me a lot of angry phone calls today.”

 

“Oh… that's alright. Anything for a friend,” Oswald said with a little apprehension, but Jim just smiled at him.

 

“I wanted to set up our Christmas tree, figure out how to do it. I don't suppose you have a holder, do you?”

 

“Don't think so… but there should be tools in the shed and I’m sure I can find an empty jar,” Oswald replied, his mind slowly realising the fact that Jim was going to spend another day with them.

 

Martin turned back with a grin, then climbed on the sofa between Oswald and Jim. “You're going to help me with the cookies,” Oswald said to him, guessing the boy's question right. “Then maybe you and Jim could do some tree decorations. Afraid we don't have any here.”

 

“That's alright, we can make some paper angels and stars,” Jim replied with such casualty, that if Oswald hadn't known better, he would have believed Jim did crafts all the time.

 

Martin got very excited, urging the two men to start working. After Oswald found a jar, Jim put on his coat and went to the shed to chop the tree’s trunk until it would fit.

 

Oswald and Martin started preparing the dough for the gingerbread, Oswald smiling when Martin diligently copied his kneading motions. His dream of teaching Martin his mother's recipe was finally coming true.

 

They were cutting the dough in shapes when there was a commotion at the door, Jim struggling with the pine tree. Oswald opened the door for him, then showed Jim where to set up the tree.

 

“Beside the sofa should be fine, right?”

 

“Yes, it's far away from the fireplace,” Jim said, ever prudent.

 

“Looks great already,” Oswald commented when Jim grinned at him as he set the tree.

 

“Will be even better with some decorations.”

 

Martin was already prepared, bringing a stack of paper, coloured pencils and other supplies to the kitchen. Oswald couldn't stop smiling while he was preparing their Christmas dinner – duck with orange and candied apples – at how domestic the scene was, Jim teaching Martin how to make a series of angels that looked like they were holding hands.

 

“And then you just cut around it and it’s done,” Jim explained with a smile, letting Martin open the paper folds to reveal their first piece of decoration.

 

“I can also show you how to make really nice snowflakes,” Oswald said, sitting down while the gingerbread was cooling. “First, you get a glass, so you can draw a circle. Then you cut it and fold it in half three times. Yes, that’s very good,” Oswald praised both Martin and Jim who were imitating his motions. “Now the fun part starts. You can start cutting out shapes. You can cut off the tip, or cut random triangles or half circles. Absolutely anything.”

 

Oswald grinned at Martin’s concentrated expression, sticking out even the tip of his tongue. “When you’re done, you just simply open the paper and voila, you have a beautiful snowflake!”

 

Martin was amazed by the clover pattern running through his snowflake, smiling up at Oswald.

 

“I’ll get some string and then we can put them on the tree,” Oswald said and went to the drawer that contained everything.

 

After a few minutes, he finally found a ball of string and went back to the kitchen, only to catch Jim and Martin stealing gingerbread cookies. “Hey, that's for later!” Oswald exclaimed, slapping Jim's hand.

 

Martin squirmed away from Oswald, all the while giggling, but Jim was trapped. “Sorry,” he said with a grin, mouth full of cookies.

 

“James, you-”

 

“What?” the detective asked with a grin, pressing closer to Oswald until the gangster's back was against the counter.

 

Oswald couldn't do anything, just stare at Jim's beautiful face and his lips when the tip of his tongue peaked out. Oswald gasped when Jim stole another cookie from behind his back, and even had the insolence to wink at him.

 

“Jim, you thief!” Oswald shrieked, pummelling the detectives chest. The muscles were so hard underneath his hand, and he let his fingers glide down Jim’s chest.

 

“Want a bite?” Jim asked, offering Oswald the gingerbread man.

 

Oswald shook his head, but Jim insisted. “Come on, it’s really good. You have to try your own creation.”

 

Jim brought the gingerman to Oswald’s lips who bit off a piece, their eyes locked the whole time. Oswald blushed as Jim also took another bite, humming in appreciation.

 

“Mother’s recipes never failed me,” Oswald said quietly, looking away.

 

There was a soft touch on his left cheek, Jim’s thumb brushing the corner of his lip as he cradled Oswald’s jaw for a moment, the look in his eyes soft when Oswald glanced up.

 

“You had some crumbs there,” Jim said, turning away, suddenly overcome by the desire to make more snowflakes.

 

Oswald swallowed, staring at Jim’s profile and craving his touch. He shook his head, and reminded himself how many tasks he had left, so he started preparing a batch of sugar cookies. Jim and Martin volunteered to cut out the cookies and place them in trays, so Oswald could prepare their dinner, which went into the oven after the cookies were done too.

 

Jim and Martin finished putting strings on the decorations they’d made and moved into the living room, where they were selecting them and placing them on the tree. Oswald smiled, and although his back and legs were tired, he wanted to join in.

 

Oswald reached up, putting a snowflake on a top branch, forced to stand on the tip of his toes. His balance was precarious, but panic barely rose for a second as he thought he’d fall forward, when there was a steadying hand on his waist. Jim’s concerned face was right next to his. “Careful there.”

 

“T-Thank you, James.”

 

“I can get the other ones for you.”

 

“You’re not that much taller than me, you know?” Oswald said, squinting at Jim, but smiling.

 

“Still got a couple of inches over you.” Jim grinned at him as he puffed out his chest, towering over Oswald. 

 

There was a tap on Jim’s shoulder, Martin smirking down at him from where he was standing on the arm of the sofa. 

 

“I think you have some competition.”

 

Martin put his arms around Jim’s neck, the detective picking him up easily and making Martin laugh as he chased the boy around the room. Oswald smiled and shook his head, unfolding paper angels and putting them on the tree. Martin laughed harder when Jim dropped him on the sofa, bouncing on the cushion.

 

Oswald laughed at him, and how quickly he was back on his feet. Martin really had a lot of energy, so no wonder Mrs. Varga found it difficult to keep him in check sometimes. If only he could take the boy back to Gotham…

 

Oswald sighed, then took another snowflake and wanted to place it on a top branch when Jim was beside him again, prying the string from between his fingers.

 

“What are you doing, James?” He asked, surprised.

 

“I just wanted to help, but if you don’t need it…”

 

“Never said that,” Oswald replied with his hand on Jim’s arm, letting it slowly slide down the sleeve of his jumper. It was as if he couldn't stop touching Jim, but he didn't feel bad as Jim seemed to take every opportunity to touch him too. It was as if some invisible, magnetic power attracted the two to each other, and the more they did it the harder it was to resist each other. 

 

He took the next star from Oswald, their fingers brushing again. Jim just smiled at him, then put it on a top branch. Martin was helping out too, carefully choosing the decorations they had made with Jim. He showed Oswald a wonky snowflake.

 

_ “Do we put this on the tree?” _

 

Oswald snorted. “I'm sure Jim made this one,” he said, glancing at the detective with an impish smile. “So maybe put it on a lower branch, where it's not so visible.”

 

“Hey!” Jim exclaimed, pretending to be hurt. “That's a perfectly fine snowflake.”

 

“Maybe by GCPD standards.”

 

For a moment, Oswald thought he had gone too far with the teasing, but Jim's eyes were filled with mirth, an impish spark a lighting them as he poked Oswald's sides. “Are you calling my snowflakes ugly?”

 

Oswald laughed, trying to get away from Jim's hands. “Yes! Ah, Jim!”

 

“Ticklish, are you?” Jim's smile widened as his fingers dug deeper in Oswald's sensitive sides.

 

“Let me go, Jim!”

 

Oswald had no chance of escape as Jim pushed him on the sofa and asked for back up. “Martin, come and help me tickle Oswald!”

 

Tears were streaming down Oswald's face, he was laughing so hard, his efforts of pushing either Jim's or Martin's fingers only half-hearted. “Mercy, please!”

 

Martin cuddled up to him with a big smile, Oswald hugging the boy. Jim looked wistful, as if he also wanted to join them, fingers lingering on Oswald's chest, watching it rise and fall.

 

Could it be? Oswald wanted to take Jim's hand and pull him on the sofa beside him, but he didn't know if the detective really wanted this. Couldn't believe it that Jim would want to get closer to him. It was probably just the whole Christmas atmosphere and how he loved being around Martin and that was erroneously transferred onto him too. As soon as this holiday ended, Jim's affection would also melt away.

 

But Jim just smiled at Oswald as he took his hands and pulled him up from the sofa, unaware of his inner turmoil. They finished putting up the rest of the decorations, then admired their creation.

 

“Something is missing,” Jim mumbled, putting his hands on his hips.

 

Martin drew a star and pointed at the top of the tree.

 

“Oh, right. But we don't have a tree topper.”

 

“We could make one,” Oswald said. “I think the coffee has a golden package, we could cut it and glue it onto a piece of cardboard.”

 

Oswald brought the empty wrapping paper while Martin and Jim drew and cut out the star. The golden paper was glued to it and Jim made a ring, so it wouldn't fall of the branch. He lifted Martin so the boy could place it on the top. It wasn't a perfect tree, but it was theirs.

 

“Santa is ready to come now,” Jim announced, laughing at Martin's enthusiasm.

 

“He doesn't come to children who haven't bathed and put on nice clothes,” Oswald said, gently guiding Martin towards the bathroom.

 

He turned back from the door, whispering. “Jim, if you could take the gifts from the wardrobe”

 

“...and put them under the tree. I know.”

 

They grinned at each other, Martin's enthusiasm infecting them both. After Martin was ready, Oswald gave him the clothes he brought from Gotham, a black suit and red and gold bowtie that matched his own – his tailor had done a marvellous job. Oswald smiled at Martin proudly in the mirror as he smoothed over his coat.

 

By the time they emerged from Martin’s room, Jim had also showered and changed into a funny sweater with a moose on it. Jim looked up as Oswald and Martin entered the room, breaking out in a smile.

 

“I feel a little underdressed now.” Jim blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

 

Martin loved his sweater, though, laughed at the cross-eyed moose skating and would have probably preferred wearing a mini-version of it instead of the suit. Perhaps it was a bit formal for this setting, but Oswald always felt more comfortable in them, gave him a certain confidence.

 

“Looking nice,” Jim told Martin, then looked at Oswald. “Both of you.”

 

Oswald looked down. “You too. Your sweater is… ah, very funny.”

 

“You mean atrocious?” 

 

“No, not at all. You could wear a potato bag and still look good.” Oswald didn’t mean to say that; it had just slipped, but after seeing the pretty blush on Jim’s cheek, he didn’t mind. “You really needn’t worry, James. Wear whatever you’re comfortable with.”

 

Luckily, Martin saved them from an awkward silence, gasping when he noticed the presents under the tree.

 

“After dinner you can open them,” Oswald said, laughing at the boy's pout.

 

The roast duck was crispy, the tartness of the orange and the sweetness of the apple complimenting it perfectly. They inhaled the food, especially Martin, who wanted to open his presents as soon as possible.

 

“We'd better finish soon,” Jim said, smiling at Oswald over a glass of red wine. Martin was almost done with his food.

 

“So impatient.”

 

“Hurry up before he opens your present.”

 

Oswald laughed. “What present?”

 

Jim touched his hand and smiled as he got up, but didn't say anything. Oswald drank the last of his wine and sat next to Jim on the sofa, Martin kneeling in front of the tree, undecided which box to open first.

 

“I think you'll like the big red one,” Oswald suggested, knowing that it contained a toy car Martin had wanted badly.

 

Jim and Oswald looked at each other, their excitement matching the boy's when he realised he got his favourite toy. He tried it instantly, playing with it for several minutes before he moved on to the next gift.

 

“He's so happy. I love watching kids open gifts,” Jim said, smiling at Oswald. 

 

“Apparently it's the most sought after car. Was quite challenging getting a hold of one.”

 

“I've no doubt you would have done anything to get it,” Jim said, quirking his eyebrows.

 

Before Oswald could protest, Jim stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, I meant it in a positive way.” Jim smiled. “You're a great dad.”

 

Oswald glanced at Jim, blushing instantly as their eyes met. “You are too,” he whispered and Jim squeezed his shoulder before he let go.

 

They watched excitedly as Martin unwrapped his other gifts: a kitchen set, books, a puzzle and a board game.

 

In the meantime, Oswald brought a bottle of eggnog and poured a glass for Jim and himself.

 

_ “Were you naughty? Is that why you didn't get anything?” _ Martin asked, showing Jim and Oswald his notepad with an impish grin.

 

“Actually, Santa did ask me to give Oswald something,” Jim said, taking something out from his pocket. “It’s not much, but he thought you’d like it.”

 

Oswald’s eyes widened as Jim gave him a small, cute penguin that could be used as a keychain. He looked at it and swallowed, realising that Jim had to buy it somewhere on their trip.

 

“Jim…”

 

“I know it's not-”

 

“It's very sweet of you,” Oswald said, smiling at Jim. “Of Santa, I mean.”

 

He wanted to kiss Jim so badly in that moment, it took all his self-control not to do so. Before he could drown in Jim's blue eyes, he remembered the gift he had for the detective.

 

“I’ll be right back.”

 

Oswald got the snow globe from his coat pocket, wondering if he should give it to Jim since it was such a trifle, but then decided that it was better than nothing.

 

“Santa forgot to wrap this. He's also sorry that he couldn't get you something nicer.”

 

Jim took the snow globe, shaking it to make the tiny snowflakes float around.

 

“That looks like my car,” Jim said, exchanging surprised smiles with Martin. 

 

Oswald was not prepared for the kiss Jim pressed to his cheek, or the sweet but impish smile following it.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You're very welcome, Jim. I thought it would commemorate our road trip.”

 

“It does. Not that I would ever forget it,” Jim said with a soft smile.

 

Oswald poured another glass of eggnog for Jim and himself, talking and watching Martin play with his new toys.

 

_ “Let’s do the puzzle together, _ ” Martin wrote on his notepad, climbing on Oswald's lap.

 

“Not today, little one,” Oswald said, pressing a kiss to Martin's temple. “It's already an hour past your bedtime.”

 

As if to prove his point, Martin yawned. 

 

“We can do the puzzle tomorrow,” Jim promised, petting Martin's curls.

 

“Come on, let's get you into bed,” Oswald said. “Say goodnight to Jim.”

 

Martin crawled over to Jim, giving him a hug and hanging on to him, so the detective carried him to his room, Oswald walking behind them. He smiled at how Martin put his head on Jim’s shoulder, completely trusting him.

 

Oswald helped Martin get into his pyjamas, then tucked him into bed. Jim turned the lights off and guided Oswald out with a hand on the small of his back, both men glancing at Martin before leaving the room and closing the door quietly.

 

With a sigh, Oswald leaned against the wall and smiled up at Jim. “Thank you. He's so big now, I don't think I can carry him anymore.”

 

“That's alright, I-” Jim's words died out as Oswald heaved a sigh and undid his bow tie.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I can do it,” Jim swallowed, stepping closer to Oswald inadvertently, eyes drawn to the button Oswald undid. “I’ll be there whenever you need me… if you want me.”

 

“Always,” Oswald mumbled, dizzy from Jim's proximity. He only had one glance at Jim's lips before the detective leaned in and kissed him, Oswald's hands grabbing anything he could get a hold of, in this case Jim's moose sweater.

 

After a moment, Jim let go, his nose brushing Oswald’s cheek, kissing along his jaw. “I didn’t know if you-, I hoped...” 

 

Jim wasn’t making a lot of sense, but Oswald understood him and cupped his face. “From the very beginning.”

 

“Oswald,” Jim moaned, kissing Oswald’s neck and sucking on it, making the gangster throw his head back in pleasure.

 

“Let’s… let’s go to the living room, I don’t want to wake up Martin.”

 

Jim nodded, taking Oswald’s hand, not letting go until they made it to the sofa. Oswald sat primly, afraid that this illusion would break, until Jim beckoned him closer. “Come here,” he said, putting his arm around Oswald as he snuggled against Jim.

 

Oswald didn’t want to hurry things, but it was fairly impossible to keep his hands off Jim. The detective seemed to share this opinion, leaning in for kisses and stroking the back of Oswald’s head.

 

“You taste like eggnog,” Jim murmured, huffing a laugh, as he sucked on Oswald’s lower lip.

 

“As do you.” Oswald smiled against Jim’s lips, gasping when Jim pulled him over so he could straddle him.

 

“Mom wants us to visit her.”

 

“She told me too… but it doesn't look like the weather will clear up tomorrow and you have to get back to Gotham.”

 

“Well... “ Jim looked down, stroking Oswald thighs. “I was thinking maybe I could get a few more days off. If you want to.”

 

Oswald blushed, tilting Jim's chin up so he could look into his eyes. “You want to introduce me to your mom?”

 

“I know it sounds ridiculous when you put it like that…”

 

“No, that's actually… it would be an honour to meet her,” Oswald said, a bit stilted given the lump in his throat.

 

“Alright, I'll remind you of this when she's going to interrogate you.” Jim grinned cheekily.

 

Oswald was not discouraged, though. “All will be worth it to see your embarrassing baby photos.”

 

“You wouldn't,” Jim gasped, eyes wide.

 

“Oh yes, I will ask for them at the first opportunity.” Oswald cackled even louder when Jim playfully bit his neck and tickled his sides.

 

“You monster! You can't use tickling!”

 

“I can if you're threatening with digging up my baby pics,” Jim said against Oswald's neck.

 

“I bet you were cute even then.”

 

“Yeah, right… wait, what do you mean even then?”

 

Oswald only had to glance at the confused expression on Jim's face and his big puppy eyes in order to break out into giggles.

 

“I can't believe no one told you this, but you're cute, captain Gordon.”

 

“Blatant lies!” Jim continued his tickling mercilessly.

 

Oswald fought against Jim’s attacks, lightly punching his chest while laughing.

 

“Shh, not so loud,” Jim smiled, silencing Oswald with soft kisses.

 

Oswald melted against Jim’s chest; the closer he was to Jim the more he wanted of the man. He tentatively stroked Jim's nape, instantly encouraged by Jim's rumble, which he felt against his chest. Jim too, knew how to amaze him, his tongue doing things which sent shivers down his spine.

 

Emboldened, Oswald lowered his hand to the hem of Jim's sweater, sliding his fingertips under it, mapping the hard muscles of Jim's abdomen and marvelling at the softness of his skin at the same time. The detective moaned against Oswald's lips, breath knocked out by such a simple touch.

 

“Oswald, babe…” the gangster's stomach did a flip at the endearment term, and he blushed. Jim seemed to have noticed it, his thumb brushing Oswald's cheek. “I just wanted to say that… uh, that I'd like you to bring Martin back to Gotham. I know,” Jim went on, eyebrows raised, index finger slipping to Oswald's lips before he could protest, “I know how worried you are about him, but he needs you. He… needs his dad.”

 

Something shuddered in Oswald, but before it could spill out, Jim kissed his worries away. “I swear I'll do everything to protect him,” Jim whispered, leaning his forehead against Oswald's. “And you.”

 

All Oswald could do was to nod as he hugged Jim tighter, his whole being inundated by the deep love he felt for Jim, that somehow seemed to expand into every cell of his body.

 

After a couple of minutes of just holding each other, Oswald felt Jim's smile against his cheek as the detective's hand slid down his back. “Now, where were we?”

 

Oswald caught the teasing tone, and grinned back at Jim when he placed his fingers back to his torso. “I believe somewhere here.”

 

“Help me get it off?” Jim asked, leaving Oswald gasping.

 

“Let-let’s go to the bedroom.”

 

Jim hummed approvingly, his hands slipping even lower, cupping Oswald's ass. Before Oswald could comment, he felt Jim moving, his grip tightening on the detective's arms as they got up.

 

“What are you doing, James?”

 

“Taking you to the bedroom,” Jim said with a laugh, hoisting Oswald up and stealing a kiss.

 

Oswald giggled, then distracted Jim with more kisses to his neck as they fumbled in the darkness. “Jim?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Merry Christmas.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Oswald.”


End file.
